Sleepless Night, Not-a-shovel, and Relationships

Days later, Harry was in bed waiting for sleep. He looked at Hermione, having just fallen asleep next to him. She was so peaceful in the half hour before she fell into that violent phase of her sleep. He looked up at the canopy of the bed and thought about what had happened since the end of the school year.

He didn't really know what to think about everything that was going on.

On one hand, he wasn't at the Dursleys, a very, very happy thought. No cupboards for him this summer. He then thought of everything that was on the other hand. He was engaged to one of his best friends, and while he was happier to be engaged with Hermione than Ron, he still didn't really know what it meant.

What was an engagement? He knew it had something to do with marriage, there were rings involved, but he wasn't sure how it all worked out. It wasn't something most thirteen-year-old boys and girls really had to deal with, at least not on the muggle side of things. Of course, Hermione, being nearly a year older than him and being this brilliant woman, probably knew everything that was going to happen. Or, at least, he hoped she did. He was smart enough to know he was clueless, which showed him to be more wise than most people.

The truth was, while he loved being here, he was lost as for what to do. Here he was, staying with a loving, if slightly insane, family and he wasn't treated like an outsider or a burden. Sure, they teased him sometimes, but it wasn't malicious, not like at the Dursleys' place. 4 Privet Drive was not a place he ever wanted to return to, but he didn't really know what was going on.

In an attempt to make himself feel saner, Harry got up out of bed, put on a robe and walked down to the kitchen to get a drink and maybe clear his head. Sometimes, when he was having trouble sleeping, the house elves would put a cup of warm milk on his table (not that he ever saw them do it), so maybe he'd have a mug of that.

He walked into the kitchen to find Xander sitting at the counter looking over blueprints of a large building.

"Hey Harry, what are you doing up this late?" he asked his accidental son-in-law.

"Thinking about things," Harry said. "Having trouble sleeping."

"I know what you mean these days," Xander said with a smile. "What are you thinking about?"

Harry paused, unsure if this was a conversation he wanted to have with Hermione's violent, exceedingly scary and overprotective father. After a moment, he decided that it was okay since he couldn't see an axe within reach.

"I'm not sure of what to do about Hermione and me," he admitted after a while. Xander sighed and patted the stool next to him.

"You really shouldn't be making this kind of decision at your age. Hell, you shouldn't have to make a decision like this at your age," Xander said honestly. "Let's start with: how do you feel about Hermione?" Harry seemed to tense up, prompting Xander put up a hand. "I'm not going to punish you for what you say unless you intend to hurt Hermione."

"I don't," Harry said. "It's just… she's my best friend. Has been for three years now. She's been my friend, even when I was acting like a bloody arse to her."

"Friends can fight; sometimes it's even a good thing," Xander said wisely. "Bottling up the problems doesn't help anyone. Friends who can deal with their problems, or even argue with each other when they think the other one is wrong, are signs of a good relationship, if dealt with appropriately. Unless, of course, their entire relationship is built on arguments; then it's doomed to failure. On that I speak from experience. Me and Cordy? Something that was never going to work. We fought and bickered all the time even if we did enjoy making out with each other."

"That sounds a little like Ron and Hermione, doomed to failure," Harry said with a slight edge of humor to his words. "I…"

He trailed off and stared off into nowhere as he tried to search for the words to articulate what he had going on in his head. He looked up at his sort-of-accidental father-in-law with a confused look. "Hermione isn't really acting like she does at school. She's… it's like she acting out a part."

"In what way?" Xander asked.

"Well, it's like she's forcing herself to be happy, and trying to hide her anger," Harry said. "I… I know her well enough to see that."

"Harry, are you sure you're doing the right thing?" Xander asked him slowly. He knew he was taking a risk, but someone had to talk to the boy about the situation. It was clear that it had been foremost in the boy's mind for some time, and it looked like the rest of the house was just ignoring the whole engagement problem. Xander winced as he thought about what he had done to them at first. Harry looked up at him with pure confusion.

"Look, I know I promised Hermione that I'd stay out of this, but I think it needs to be said," he told the younger man. "Hermione's scared."

"What does she have to be scared about?"

Xander paused and thought a moment. "Has Hermione told you about her Aunt Buffy?"

"Not too much," Harry said. "We don't really talk about that stuff. I guess I understand, given everything that's happened."

Xander had to agree. As fun as the summer could have been for them, the press invasion, the assumptions and the goddamn magical contract was ruining everything for them. And they didn't even know it was possible at first.

"You two are a lot alike. You both carry destiny around on your shoulders, even if someone else placed it there in the first place. You could set it down, but you won't. It's just not who you are. You're both pretty selfless to the point of absurdity."

"I don't know how that's a bad thing?" Harry said, turning it into a question.

"Hermione is afraid that you're turning more into Buffy," Xander said. "She's especially afraid that you're only sticking with her because you know she'll loose her magic if she leaves you."

"No! That's not-"

"Now hear me out," Xander interrupted. "Hermione and I are much more alike than she would care to admit. She's 'the friend'. At some level, My Darling Daughter doesn't think she deserves to get the boy. You, Harry, that's you. Regardless of if you like it or not, you have kind of taken the role of the Prince Charming in this bizarre tale. Now, the problem is, she's heard all these stories before about Buffy and her love life. Buffy and Angel, Buffy and me, Buffy and Spike and more and more and more."

"But I'm not her; I'm me!"

"Yes, and that's part of what you need to get her to understand," Xander said. "If you care for her, if you can see yourself growing old with her, then it's probably the right choice. If you're doing this out of obligation because of what you think she deserves, then I'll string you up by your toenails until you think you're a monkey. If you're doing this only because you're getting what you want out of it, well, I can think up worse threats, but I'm a bit tired at the moment."

Harry looked at the other man with pure fear.

"You have to understand - Buffy always chose others over her own happiness in her own roundabout way. She chose not to date me because Willow thought she was in love with me. Wills loves me, but she's not in love with me. Buffy and I could have been good together," Xander said. The boy looked like he was going to comment, but Xander held up a hand to forestall an argument.

"That's not arrogance, it's the truth," the man said. "But Buffy went for an older, practically unattainable guy who ended up not being the person she thought he was. And he was a vampire, to boot. Then, almost immediately after that was finally dashed to bits, she jumped to Riley, another unattainable guy. He was her TA in college. TAs dating students is a big no-no, but they did it anyways. Drugged up undercover government super-soldiers and Slayers are an even bigger no-no. It was fast, it was passionate, and it was ultimately doomed. Then, a while later, after some other really bad things happened, Buffy went for Spike. Buffy didn't love him. She couldn't even really stand him, at first, but she needed to feel something and self-loathing was something. Buffy didn't realize that you need to be friends with your partner as much as you need sex - or smoochies, in your age bracket." Xander gave him a classic overprotective dad look. "There had better only be smoochies in your age bracket."

Harry wasn't sure how to react to that one, especially since he and Hermione hadn't even gotten to smoochies. Instead, he tried to continue the story. "What happened after Spike?"

"Buffy decided that she wasn't going to have any more relationships, so she tried to ignore any feelings she had for other people. And then, Tara died. And Willow went away for a while to cope."

"Tara looks okay, now," Harry said hesitantly. There was a shadow of emotion that seemed to pass over Xander's face, suggesting a memory that the older man longed to put aside for better things.

"That's part of the story. Buffy got a wish," Xander explained, hoping that the boy understood the parallels to his own life. "She could have wished to be rich, have her mother back, find true love, or anything else she might have wanted. You see, something we'd noticed, but never mentioned, was that Buffy was, and is, in love with Willow. Buffy could have made Willow happy. Willow had just gotten past the rebound girl stage (believe me, nobody liked Kennedy, nobody not even Willow after a short while) and it would have been easy for Buffy to just swoop in and be happy."

"Why didn't she?"

"Buffy thought that it was more important for Willow to be happy than for Buffy to be happy with Willow."

"The wish, that's how Tara came back to life," Harry blurted. "And Willow's in love with Tara."

"And always will be. Those two are soul mates," Xander said. "There's something special between them and always will be."

"And Hermione's afraid that I'm doing the same thing: putting her happiness before my own."

"Are you?" Xander asked. He held up a hand to stop a quick response. "Don't answer me. I'm not the one who needs to hear it. You need to think long and hard about that decision. Don't make a snap judgment. Just know this; I'd rather see her sans magic and happy, than married to you and unhappy with magic. The important thing is, are you happy? Happy with her?"

"If the answer is no, then this is wrong and you need to tell her so."

"I-I'm not sure," Harry said, looking at his feet.

"That's a good answer," Xander reassured him. "Don't make this a snap decision, Harry. You're not bickering, you're not throwing bricks at each other, and so don't expect this to fail. Goodness knows, I've messed up enough relationships to know when something's going well."

"Really?"

"You kidding? The only relationship I haven't screwed up is mine with Hermione," Xander replied with a chuckle. Harry gave him a scandalized look. "Not like that, you idiot! I mean, as father and daughter."

"What about you and Dawn?"

"Oh, I screw that up all the time; she just keeps giving me another chance because she loves me," Xander said with a smirk. "An important part of being in a relationship is knowing when to forgive and when to cut your losses."

Harry was quiet for a long moment before looking up at the one-eyed man. "What if I make the wrong choice?"

"You'll find yourself strung up by your toenails until you think you're a monkey."

"So," said Harry. "No pressure then?"

"None at all."

After Harry walked back up to the shared bedroom to contemplate the situation, Dawn stepped in from the hallway where she'd been listening, wrapped her arms around her husband from behind and rested her chin on his shoulder. "You're forgetting that she's selfless in ways that usually maximize her personal angst, thus making it a selfish act."

"You can bash your sister if you want, but I'll stick by my friend," Xander said, "even if it is true. At least she's dating a human, this time."

Across the city, Auror Tonks let out a massive series of sneezes, unbalancing herself in such a way that she fell over backwards, hitting a scale in the shop she was inspecting. The scale fell over, knocking down a coat rack which hit a patron, who dropped their wand while in the middle of casting a fire spell, in an attempt to light a candle.

The wand set the carpet on fire, igniting the high grade whiskey that was being weighed in the first place. The fire spread across the floor, climbed up the curtains and caught fire to the timbers. The smoke from the timbers caused the owls in the owl hatchery above to start panicking, and one snowy owl kicked a nest, causing an egg to roll out of the hatchery, only to land in Tonks' pocket where it then decided to hatch.

Tonks staggered away from the burning building and looked towards the rather angry owner.

"I'm going to have to write you up for improper fire safety," she said in all seriousness. "You really need to have your anti-fire charms renewed."

"Cheep-Cheep," said the owl chick from Tonks' pocket.

"That's the second time this week," Tonks muttered to herself. "Nobody seems to care about fire safety anymore."

Harry trudged back up the stairs with his mug of milk, pondering the strange conversation he'd just had. Was that what he was doing? He was too tired to really think things through that night, so he pushed those thoughts aside. He opened the door and looked inside to where his best friend and fiancée was sleeping. She had just started to toss and turn. Things had been better lately, sleep wise. It was like they were learning to be together. He awoke with fewer bruises and Hermione was less physically active at night.

Getting an idea, Harry just pulled her into a hug only tight enough to limit flailing, but not to hurt or severely bind. She didn't wake up. He didn't try anything else, but just held her gently still until they both were cradled in the arms of Morpheus and Harry dreamt he was a superhero with cooking powers. It was a strange dream.

Hermione awoke the next morning surprised to find Harry still in bed. He was usually up and about long before she crawled out. Rolling around, she realized his arms were around her.

She could have been mad. She could have felt like he was taking advantage, but she didn't. He wasn't touching her naughty bits or hurting her. It was… nice.

A smile creeping onto her face, she nestled back into the pillow and went back to sleep.

Thanks Greywizard!