A MEETING OF EQUAL HALVES: Find Me Somebody to Love

A/N: Title is from a Queen lyric. Sorry for the delay in getting this posted; Grey's Anatomy has kind of eaten my fic-writing brain since the season premiere.

X-X-X-X

Summer 1999

Hermione sat down on Harry's bed, watching him pace his room.

"You were never this supportive when I tried to go out with Cho, or Ginny," he said, almost accusingly. "Why do you like Luna so much more? You used to think she was mad!"

Hermione nodded, "You're right, about both things. And I was wrong about Luna. She's just brilliant in such an unorthodox way that it put me off until I really got to know her. And now I love her, and I think she's perfect for you." She sighed, willing the courage to say what she wanted, "I didn't like Cho. I tried to be supportive, and I was to a certain extent, but really, she wasn't any good for you. She was still grieving for Cedric, and wanted you for all the wrong reasons. And besides Quidditch, you had next to nothing in common. Ginny was sort of my friend, but she also wanted you for all the reasons that had nothing to do with you as a person. She never got over that Boy Who Lived thing, never saw just Harry instead of all the glamour of your name. If Ginny had had her way, you two would have married right out of school, popped out a handful of kids, you would work as an Auror, being her knight in shining armor still, and I would have been fobbed off on Ron. Years in the future we would have run into each other at the platform to drop off our kids for the Express, and never spoken a word. I would scold Ron for something and he'd chat with you, but we would never speak. She didn't like how close we are. She didn't like that I know you better than she ever could. She would have taken away my best friend and not thought anything of it. You were happy, you liked her, so I didn't say anything. I hoped you'd figure it out on your own that it was just hormones and familiarity."

She breathed deeply, looking into Harry's wide green eyes, "But Luna? Luna loves her friends, and loves that her friends are close to each other. She would never be suspicious, never begrudge that the two of us have shared so much. She would never worry about the fact that another woman is right now sitting on your bed, because she knows that there's nothing like that between us. We love each other, but, honestly, you're my brother. That's incredibly important to both of us, and she will never resent it. I know she loves the real Harry Potter, the boy who befriended her when no one else would, when the whole world called him a liar, who is cranky in the morning and makes the best eggs and can never comb his hair properly. So yes, when I see that she's someone worthy of you, and that you're worthy of her, I'm going to do my best to make sure you aren't stupid about it."

He grinned. "How can I be, when I've got the most brilliant witch in the world watching my back?"

Hermione blushed. "Harry! Rule one, you should say things like that about Luna, not me!"

"Well, actually she said it first, when she was looking over the ward scheme for the house. I think you'd stepped out to use the bathroom. But duly noted. So now that we've straightened out how Luna is amazing and I should definitely go out with her, shall we talk about you?" His eyes danced, mischievous and light-hearted. When she saw him like this, she thought maybe this was how he would be if there had never been a Voldemort, or the Dursleys, or a meddling old coot in his tower.

"Talk about what?" she was genuinely confused. He very well knew that she hadn't been on anything approaching a date since last summer, with Ron.

"Well, I was looking for my green hoodie the other day, and found it in your room. Covering a little pile of books. Let's see, there was," with that he pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket and read, "Passions Between Women: British Lesbian Culture 1668-1801, Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit, The Well of Loneliness, Sappho and the Virgin Mary, Same Sex Unions in Pre-Modern Europe." He looked at his best friend, "I sense a theme, and if you want to talk about it, I'm here."

For a moment, it seemed like Hermione's face couldn't decide whether to pale or blush. So she dropped her face into her hands. "Harry, please, not now." She lifted her eyes and glared, "And what were you doing looking through my things, anyway?"

The glare wasn't real, they had lived in each other's back pockets since they were children. Most of Harry's good clothes between the ages of eleven and seventeen were birthday or Christmas gifts from the Grangers. The first sweatshirt that Harry could remember fitting decently was an older one of Hermione's she had given him one cold fall day in first year when he shivered at breakfast. To this day he was the only person Hermione knew who would get teary-eyed with happiness over new socks and underwear under the Christmas tree. As they'd lived together in a tent for a year, their jumpers and sweatshirts had become almost communal given how Harry was a small man and Hermione bought her outer clothes a size or two larger than she needed.

"Like I said, I was looking for my hoodie. But that's a detail. Hermione, I don't understand people, I admit that. But I do know you. And I've seen how you look at her. She could be so good for you." He sat down next to her, prying one hand away from her face and squeezing it. "We both know how the Wizarding world is, that it wouldn't be easy, but the ones who'd reject you for this? They probably already do because you're muggleborn. And have you seen the way she looks at you? Don't dance around this for too long. You deserve to be happy."

Hermione lowered her free hand, intertwining it with the mess of fingers and palms between them. She met his gaze head-on. "So do you, Harry. So do you."

end.