[number 12, 15 january 2002]
Harry shook his head, feet glued to the spot. It wasn't that he didn't think she'd say yes . . . but he really didn't think she'd say yes.
The feeling of nervousness that had followed him was suddenly gone. He was lighter than air! He hadn't felt this happy since their last year at Hogwarts.
His quiet excitement was quickly vocalized when he remembered the bet he'd made with Ron.
(It seemed a lot weirder than it was.)
He sloppily scribbled out a note to him, simply saying
you owe me a galleon
He rolled it up, going out to the back garden where his owl liked to stay some nights, tied it to her leg, instructed her where to go, and it was sent.
Harry was quite elated for the rest of the night, nearly falling asleep when he suddenly remembered that going on a date would require planning. It took him an hour to sleep after that.
[number 12, 10 january 2002]
"NOOOOO!" Ron yelled at the television.
Dean burst out laughing. "Weren't you poking fun at Muggle sports?"
Ron's hearing became selective in that instant.
Harry had never been a big party person, never too big on getting groups of people together. That changed when he had his own home.
He suddenly realized that he'd never been a party person (if one ignores all of their 8th year that remains true) simply because he was surrounded by his friends. Why host a get-together when you share a room with four other boys?
But adulthood wasn't just scary, it was lonely. He'd never been alone like this-even when they ignored him, the simple presence of the Dursley's made it a little bit better.
As it happened, along with the conclusion of the Second Wizarding War came a bit of economic recession. He vaguely understood thanks to Hermione that it wasn't how that worked in the Muggle world, but mostly understood that it made it hard to find jobs. Overall, it was fairly confusing: more people dead should equal more job vacancies, right? But since so many people were dead, it instead wiped out entire industries with no one there to teach the new adults. Or, at least, that's what Hermione said.
What all of this really meant was that his friends struggled to find work-paid work. Ron was likely the best off, helping George with the shop. Then came Hermione, who worked two part time jobs: something to do with the Ministry and something else to do with . . . he wasn't sure. He was spending his time pretty recreationally, notably by practicing Quidditch (and being bombarded with requests from his friends to 'just try out for a pro team'). All of the others struggled more, some like Dean even choosing to take up Muggle jobs in the absence of other work.
Because of the chaos of the job market, he was really the only one that owned his own house. Hermione was the closest to that, with her own apartment, though due to the sheer lack of space inside it made it unsuitable for any more than two or three people.
"Dean, he'll never confess to that," Harry said.
The gathering currently underway was something of an informal reunion, featuring himself, Ron, Dean, Neville, and Seamus. It was something they did regularly, mostly because of the unemployment status of most of them.
It was, however, on this occasion, that Ron and Harry made that bet. After that night's football game had drawn to an end, they turned on a movie, something they were laughing too loudly to hear.
"I think I want to get back together with her, y'know, go out with her again," Ron said.
Harry chose silence, trying to avoid triggering the beginning of an argument. He and everyone else in the room knew exactly who Ron was asking about.
"D'you think she'd say yes?" Ron asked.
Harry again used a decade of knowledge about Ron to make the smart choice and not respond.
"Come on!" Ron punched him roughly. Harry thought to himself that it was probably time to cut him off, something that Neville clearly agreed with as he gently pulled the glass bottle from Ron's hand.
"She'll say yes to Harry before she says yes to you," Dean muttered under his breath. It wasn't very quiet, since everyone heard, Seamus letting out a loud gasp.
Ron sat deeper into the couch, face turning redder.
"Naw," Dean interrupted again, "Let's make a bet on it."
"But if she says no to Ron, that's nothing new," Seamus said. Even Neville yelped at that one.
"Go on then, ask her yourself, Harry, see if she says yes," Dean said.
Harry had been trying his hardest to stay out of it.
"She says no, you owe Ron a Galleon. She says yes, Ron owes you one."
Harry gave Dean a look, one that prompted Seamus to ask how he could get in on the bet.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll add a Galleon, for you Harry," Dean said.
Harry was so uncomfortable, wishing he could Apparate out of the situation.
"I'll add one on you!" Seamus chimed, pointing to Ron.
The attention turned to Neville, who shook his furiously, choosing to stay neutral.
After some jeering (read: peer pressure) that even Ron joined in on, so confident in what Hermione's answer would be a swift 'No.'
He finally gave, conceding that it really didn't matter anyways.
As he fell asleep, spare bedrooms filled with his friends, he thought to himself that it wasn't that bad. It wasn't like he'd never thought about it. He never would've asked her, but what really was the harm in asking?
Honestly, it was less the idea of asking her out, and more discomfort with making a bet on it. He shrugged that off quickly, though. He knew Hermione would rather be asked out on a thousand bet dates than get back together with Ron. (He was correct.)
It bears mentioning that the morning after he did finally ask her out was when he realized that Ron had probably instantly written to Hermione upon receiving the letter. Harry did the same, swearing under his breath the entire time.
sorry about that, I forgot to tell you. it was technically a bet, but I promise I do actually want to go out with you.
p.s. it was either me or ron, sorry again.
p.p.s I'll give you the money I won
[hermione's flat, 15 january 2002]
Hermione was often right. Almost every single time. There was the odd occasion when she was wrong (her love life being a glaring example), but for the most part she was right.
She had a good intuition. She was told all the time that she would make an excellent Ravenclaw in her time at Hogwarts. She was consistently top in her classes. She gave great advice, and her track record on that would probably have been better if she'd chosen to befriend more girls.
That wasn't to say that she didn't have short-comings.
Because she really most certainly did.
A short-coming of hers clearly wasn't her temper, though, since as she received a letter from Harry's owl later that morning, she only laughed.
She could practically envision him writing it. In light of that good news, she didn't bother to mentally weigh the fact that it was probably initiated by Ron saying something-the things he said while drunk!-instead letting out a sigh of relief. At least that explained why Ron knew within hours.
Hermione gazed around her apartment, trying to keep to her normal weekend schedule: Saturday was cleaning day. It wasn't particularly messy, it never was. In fact, at its cleanest, Molly had gently called it "stark". She didn't take offense to that, knowing that it really didn't matter what anyone else said about it.
Quite frankly, it could be described as "stark". But she loved it, everything had a place to be stored and despite its humble size, she had plenty of empty cupboards.
When she first moved in, she felt bad. It had been completely bankrolled by her parents, who had decided that they couldn't handle having her in their home anymore. Not in a bad way, but after 8 years of being able to live nearly independently, being back with her own parents was only survivable for a year.
If there was one thing that Hermione could criticize the Wizarding World for was the lack of preparation. She felt that regardless of the economic situation they should at least have some idea of what they should do. It wasn't all their fault, since when she was in school there had been direct routes to jobs. Even Harry, who knew with certainty what he wanted to do since 4th year, quickly had to change his career aspirations: the Auror Department at the Ministry of Magic would only consider applicants with two or more years' job experience. This was a direct result of the great influx of application that came in, many that were so beyond unqualified it was comical. Hermione, who wanted to pursue a career in government was forced to change her mind as well, any departments she was interested in had either been combined with another for 'efficiency', or required so many years of experience that she would've had to start working at age 14.
Acknowledging that, her parents gladly gave her money each month, enough for her to pay for the apartment and food. Their only requirement was that she do something. They didn't care what.
She later found a studying program, one that seemed to closely resemble Muggle university. It was through that program (of which she was in her second year) that she managed to finally discover an entry level Ministry position.
Said position was a measly 1 day a week commitment, and entailed fascinating things like sorting incoming letters from owls-that was it. She later discovered the reason why it was so little time and such menial work that there were literally spells for it was because of the large numbers of people interested. It was then that she really understood how over the past couple of years, recent graduates were too scared to work for the Ministry, creating a massive influx when it was popularly decided to be safe again.
She glanced around, unsure of where to begin. Eyes landing on the table, she grabbed her wand and stated a simple cleaning spell aloud.
Another short -coming actually did revolve completely around her apartment. For the first time ever, she had a place that belonged to her(paid for by her parents, though, as Ron helpfully reminded her).
When she had her first house-warming, not knowing the limits of the apartment, she invited the entire Weasley family, her own parents, and Harry. It was undignified chaos and by the end of it, her brand-new apartment looked a wreck.
After that, she'd banned all guests but Harry for two months.
She finished cleaning in fifteen minutes. She was right to say yes to Harry.
[number 12, again, same day]
Harry stood quickly at the sound of the doorbell, unsure of who would have shown up so unexpectedly.
He peered through the peephole, relieved to see Hermione on the other side.
"You thought I was gonna say no," she said as he opened the door.
Harry avoided meeting her eyes, cheeks flushed.
"Harry! I thought you knew me better than that!"
"Hermione the last time it even came up . . . that was months ago," he said sheepishly.
It was actually three weeks ago. She told him so.
(The occasion three weeks ago was a subtle mention, an offhand joke that Luna made, something about Harry and Hermione being nearly perfect for one another according to a Quibbler article listing the top signs of compatibility.)
They sat in the front room today, where the black walls had been stripped and re-stained to a light brown wood color. Formal yet cozy, was how Hermione had described it.
"So, what did he say to you?"
"You're really going on a date with Harry," she told him sarcastically.
"Sometimes I think he's obsessed with you."
"Sometimes I think he's obsessed with the idea of me." She shook her head. "You remember when we were together . . . I was horrible to him, he was horrible to me . . ."
Harry certainly remembered Ron and Hermione together. The rows that were just annoying when they were friends had gained a new fire behind them once they started dating. It wasn't just trading insults anymore-their intimacy gave each of them fuel, more personal things to expose. He had a vivid recollection of the time that he had to start refusing to be alone with just the two of them, often dragging Ginny along to every occasion in order to add an extra buffer. That didn't really work either.
Looking back, it was easy to blame it all on Ron, but in reality he was just the one that escalated the fights. There were things that Hermione didn't like and would take personally, a list that Harry was familiar with. Somehow Ron wasn't. From the fact that she hated it when they washed her good dishes with magic, to the way she liked her knitting basket to just not be touched, and even the way she sat when she read and did not want to be disturbed.
It drove her crazy because she felt like Ron didn't pay any attention to her, Ron was annoyed by the way she snapped when she didn't like what he'd done.
She was able to pinpoint the instant that she realized it didn't work: one night at the Burrow when Molly had jokingly asked Ron when he was going to move in with her. In the moment, she forced a laugh out, but all she felt inside was white hot dread.
Harry and Hermione were both silent now, thinking of all the reasons why she and Ron didn't work.
"Well, thank you."
"For asking you out on a bet?" he joked.
She rolled her eyes. "You know what I'm thanking you for."
With that, she DisApparated.