Chapter Four: Excursion

Hermione knew that Harry was rather good at quidditch; in fact, it was only out of a sense of loyalty to Cho that she had refrained from admitting aloud that he was the best seeker the school had seen in some time. He was a natural on a broom in every sense of the word, bullheaded enough to turn away most attempts at coaching his technique yet at the same time possessing a skill to back it up.

However, in the past, her exposure to his play style was limited entirely to games in which Ravenclaw was facing off against Gryffindor. As such, Hermione had been up until now rather singularly focused on the object of her continuing coaching efforts, to study her technique and offer constructive critiques as needed or positive reinforcement when warranted. Never had she willingly attended a quidditch game in which her own protégé wasn't taking part, preferring to help her improve in her own right and not to model her playstyle with express purpose of being better than someone else.

That was overspecialization and not at all a good groundwork.

Today, in a bit of a shuffle to the usual formula, she found herself not only attending a quidditch game in which Cho wasn't participating, but it wasn't even an officially-sanctioned match, merely a pickup game between two teams unwilling to let silly notions of a Triwizard Tournament interfere with their fun. She wasn't here to critique anyone's form or provide after-match tips on how to better perform; no, she was here to watch the boy she liked zip around the pitch and look actually rather cool while doing so.

Harry Potter could fly. Such was his skill that he even managed to make the simple act of scouring around for the golden snitch look utterly captivating. Hermione was aware of a bit of personal bias in such an observation, but she took solace in the fact that she at least wasn't alone in her opinion.

Granted, present company was likely equally as biased.

"He flies so good!" Mafalda cooed, staring wide eyed through a pair of binoculars that pivoted and whipped about as she tracked the airborne boy. "He's like a feather or a plastic bag in the wind."

"He'll be so delighted to be compared to a plastic bag," Daisy giggled, though she too was tracking Harry's progress through a pair of omnioculars, evidently a souvenir from the Quidditch World Cup. Hermione currently held another other pair. For the moment, she'd lowered hers to better appreciate the way Harry seemed to flow around the pitch, ducking in and out of the action while piloting his broom with natural ease and grace. Draco Malfoy on the other hand seemed to be struggling to keep up. He wasn't a poor flyer—in fact, he was solid and seemed to have a decent enough technique.

Harry simply made it look so effortless.

"Malfoy's just so bad," Daisy muttered. "He flies like a robot."

"He flies like a technician," Hermione said. "Essentially the same thing. He knows what a good seeker does, and he does it. But it's all a queue in his head, an order of operations that he follows to get the desired results. Harry's a natural. He does what feels right, and what feels right is usually what the situation calls for."

"Harry's also just better," Daisy said matter-of-factly, and Hermione giggled.

"That's true," she said. And it was. She'd never seen the two fly side-by-side, but now that she was watching it, the difference was almost night and day. Draco Malfoy was good, to be sure. But Harry Potter was simply in another league. It was often too early to tell at this age, but he could certainly go pro.

Glancing down from where she'd been staring, Hermione found Daisy peering up at her with a knowing smile on her face, and she stuck her tongue out at the girl.

"You fancy my brother," Daisy said in a singsong voice.

"Oh, hush," Hermione muttered, and Daisy cackled. "You're supposed to be in my corner, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I can still tease," Daisy told her.

"I think it's cute!" Mafalda insisted. "Harry's great! Why wouldn't she fancy him?"

"Well, as long as you don't try to steal him from me completely," Daisy said.

"I would never," Hermione said. "You're going to help me keep him in line."

"Oh, I knew I liked you," Daisy said with a grin.

As cold wind whipped by, Hermione clutched her cloak tighter around herself, trapping the heat from the jar of blue flame she'd brought along. The girls were clustered as close as they were able, the three of them sharing the lone source of warmth on an otherwise unforgivingly-cold November day.

Despite the weather, however, the turnout to the game was quite robust. The Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry was the stuff of legend, and it was no secret that Draco Malfoy had long declared Harry his personal nemesis on the quidditch pitch. Even in the corridors, he spewed scathing remarks and vitriol as often as he was able. Harry, for his part, blithely ignored the blond ponce, never once rising to his bait and succeeding in making Malfoy look the fool most often by simply not engaging.

"Did Viktor Krum really end up showing?" Daisy asked with a curious look about. "Oh, I see him. With his little herd of fangirls around him, per usual."

"Maddening, that bunch," Hermione sighed. "They've made a quiet trip to the library all but impossible with how much they follow him and lurk about, tittering and giggling and just making noise."

"Tittering is a funny word," Mafalda observed.

"It is," Daisy said with a nod.

"Another foul for Slytherin!" Lee Jordan announced. "New captain Henry Urquhart needs to remember that this game still abides all the rules or his team will forfeit!"

"Who on Earth is Henry Urquhart?" Hermione asked.

"New Slytherin captain," Daisy said, eyes again fixed through her omnioculars. "Montague finally graduated, or they kicked him out or something."

"There's a butterfly by Viktor Scum's ear," Mafalda observed.

"He wasn't on the team last year," Hermione mused, and Daisy shrugged.

"You'll have to ask my dear brother about that," she said. "He's the one that pays attention to the rosters and stuff."

"Not a fan of quidditch?" Hermione asked.

"I know enough to keep up with Harry and Uncle Sirius when they start going on about it, and I've never missed one of Harry's games," Daisy said proudly. "Even before Hogwarts, I would bully Uncle Sirius into bringing me to them. Not that he needed much excuse."

"You really like your big brother, don't you?" Hermione asked. In response, Daisy only grinned up at him.

"Well," she said, "what's not to like?"

Hermione didn't really have an adequate answer to that question.

About an hour into the match, Harry made a sudden beeline across the pitch, pressed flat onto his broom and blurring a bit as he shot for his target. All three girls screamed themselves hoarse cheering as Draco tried and failed to intercept his bid for the snitch. Harry pulled out of his dive pumping his fist in triumph, and the stadium erupted in cheers, the unbeatable seeker having continued his streak. Hermione watched as his eyes scanned the pitch, and she dared hope for a moment before his gaze found the three of them, a grin lighting up his face. Waving, she giggled a bit as he waved enthusiastically back.

"You two," Daisy said with a smirk. "When are you going to ask him out?"

"What!?" Hermione yelped. "What are – "

"Oh, be real, Hermione," Daisy huffed. "Putting some makeup on will certainly get him to notice you, but even then, he needs to get it through his thick skull that you like him, and that's not likely. Ask Mum sometime; Potter boys are oblivious."

"But – "

"You need to set yourself up as his one true chance at real love," Daisy said while Mafalda nodded along passionately. Hermione was reminded of Marietta and Cho the other day, though smaller and rather more impish. "But you have to be the one to pull the trigger. Make the first move! It's the nineties! A girl can ask a boy out!"

"…You really are precocious," Hermione told her, and Daisy stuck her tongue out.

"I don't know the meaning of the word," she said. "…Really, I don't. What's it mean?"

"Granger!" Harry's voice shouted, and Hermione rounded to see him hovering near her spot in the stands. Steadfastly ignoring the hateful looks being thrown her way by the surrounding girls, she focused on his windswept hair and the absolutely cocky grin that sent her heart thudding. "Hey, did you see?"

"Of course I did," Hermione told him. "That was quite a good catch."

"Not half bad, am I?" Harry asked with a wink.

"Not half," she agreed. "Are you going to go celebrate with your team?"

"Yeah, just wanted to ask you—you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" Harry asked her.

"I am," Hermione said, unable to keep a nervous flutter from her voice.

"Did you maybe want to meet up?" Harry asked. "I'd like to treat you to a few butterbeers, pay you back for helping me with my grades. Maybe I could buy you something—new book or a planner or something."

"You sure know how to spoil a girl," Hermione said, despite feeling that those were actually quite thoughtful ideas.

"What can I say, I'm a natural," Harry said. "See you there?"

"You don't have to buy me – "

"Sure I do," Harry said. "Meet me in the Great Hall tomorrow, yeah?"

"…Oh, fine," Hermione said with a giggle. "You'd best not keep me waiting."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said.

"Potter!" one of the Weasley twins called out.

"Stop your flirting and let's get this party started!" the other bellowed.

"I'll murder them," he muttered. "Tomorrow, then, Granger. See you."

"Bye," Hermione said as he drifted away, turning to see Daisy beaming up at her.

"Can I be your maid of honor?" she asked. "Mafalda can be the flower girl."

"I love flowers!" Mafalda chirped, back to peering around through her binoculars.

"Oh, you two!"

…

When she reached the entrance to the common room, Hermione ran into Cho and Marietta, where she filled them in on the game and Harry's chat with her afterward. Cho, upon hearing that the pair would be going together to Hogsmeade, went into paroxysms of joy.

"He asked you on a date!?" she squealed, flinging her arms around Hermione and dancing happily in place. "Hermione, that's brilliant!"

"It's not a date, per se," Hermione huffed, though she grinned at her friend's antics. "We're just going to Hogsmeade together. He asked me last-minute and everything."

"Hey, don't sell it short," Marietta said. "He asked you. Harry Potter doesn't ask people to hang out with him."

"Have you done your research?" Hermione asked as they settled onto a couch near a high window.

"I have," Marietta said crisply. "Padma was happy to share some of her sister's various rantings. Evidently, you're the bane of the existence of every girl in Gryffindor, from about third year to sixth. And even a couple seventh-years."

"That's a bit sad," Hermione said. "I haven't done anything to them."

"Not directly," Marietta said, "but Harry showing an interest in you where he wasn't previously interested in anyone means now they're forced to realize that they lack something you have."

"That's ridiculous," Hermione huffed. "Harry was only interested in me because he—um, wanted to get his grades up."

She had almost spilled the beans about Harry's possibly-now-bygone infatuation with Cho. There was no need to dig up that chestnut.

"Even so, it's beyond that now," Marietta said. "He likes you. Even if he's too thick to realize it himself, all the girls can see it, and it's eating them up. Before, they could just shrug and tell themselves Harry's not interested in anyone at all, so it's no personal failing of theirs."

"But now that he's into you, that excuse has run its course, and they're jealous," Cho said.

"Well, that seems like their business and hardly any of my concern," Hermione said with a small frown, and Marietta snickered.

"You tell 'em," she said. "Bunch of harpies."

"So, what are you going to wear tomorrow?" Cho asked.

"I don't really know," Hermione shrugged, staring out the window at the darkening grounds. "Probably jeans and that warm jumper."

Glancing over at the pair, she saw Cho and Marietta both staring. While Marietta's look was one of dubious amusement, Cho was askance, as though she'd just witnessed a murder.

"…What?"

"Marietta?" Cho asked.

"I think a turtleneck," Marietta said immediately. "Maybe that lovely plaid skirt of yours."

"Stockings?"

"Oh, tights, it'll be quite chilly," Marietta countered. "Oh, and the cardigan."

"Oooh, the cardigan," Cho said with relish. "Excellent. And a hat."

"That wool beret you had for Christmas last year, from your gran," Marietta said.

"Yes!" Cho squeaked, now jolting jubilantly to her feet and dragging Hermione with her. "Come along, dear, let's get your outfit sorted."

"But – "

"Just go along with it, it'll be quicker," Marietta told her, following in the pair's wake. Heaving a small sigh, Hermione allowed herself to be herded toward the girls' dormitories for another "montage".

Truth be told, she was rather looking forward to how nice she was likely to look tomorrow.

000

Taking a steadying breath, Hermione smoothed out her skirt for what felt like the thousandth time. It felt a bit strange to be wearing one on a fairly casual excursion. A dress or skirt to a formal affair or as part of her uniform was one thing; when she was simply going about her business, however, she tended to prefer slacks or jeans. But here she was, dressed rather to the nines in a lovely blue plaid pleated skirt, black tights, a black turtleneck, and a deep bronze cardigan.

"Flying the Ravenclaw colors," Cho had insisted.

Topping the whole look off was a black beret, perched just so on her head and charmed to stay perfectly jaunty in even the most stubborn wind. Of course, Cho and Marietta had gone at her with the makeup brushes, citing that this was a date and thus needed a bit more than the natural look. With perfectly-pink lips, rosy cheeks, and something Marietta had called winged eyeliner, Hermione personally felt that she had never looked better in her life.

Ugh, what was she becoming? Makeup and perfectly-chosen outfits? She was a scholar not some giggling schoolgirl!

And yet, as Harry finally reached the Great Hall and fixed her with a wide-eyed look of amazement, she felt that there was nothing wrong with blending a bit of both. Her date for the day made his way closer, and Hermione noted that he was dressed nicely as well—sporting rather nice slacks and a button-down shirt with a warm-looking jacket over it, it looked as though he had even made an effort at styling his hair.

It was a valiant one, at least.

"You look nice," Hermione said as he drew near, and Harry shot her a bashful little smile.

"Daisy insisted I gussy up a bit," he said. "Glad I did now, so I don't look the slob. You look…amazing."

"Oh, this old getup?" Hermione said with a mock tone of affected casualness. "Just something I threw together in…two or three hours."

"I suppose Cho and Marietta had a hand in it?" Harry asked. "You always seemed more into your studies than fashion."

"I can be into both," Hermione huffed with a pout that lost the fight to a little smile. "But…yes."

"Girls are so multifaceted," Harry chuckled. "I'm positively flat and uninteresting by comparison."

"Oh, you're frightfully complex, believe me," Hermione told him as they made their way to the carriages that would haul them to Hogsmeade. "At the very least, you've a silent and mysterious reputation to the girls at school."

"Silent and mysterious?" he said with a snort. "Is that really what they think of me? I just hate small-talk and happen to be really awkward."

"Yes, I'm learning that about you," Hermione muttered.

"Well, if I've accidentally cultivated some suave façade or something, don't spoil it," Harry said. "I rather like it."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Hermione said. "It makes me look better for associating with you."

They climbed into a carriage (Harry graciously held the door and took her hand to help her in, which was quite nice), and Hermione watched out the window as it set off and trundled along toward the village.

"You planning to watch the First Task?" Harry asked once they had settled in.

"I'm not really sure," Hermione said. "On the one hand, the Triwizard Tournament is an old tradition, and it would be fascinating to watch it. But also…"

"The whole thing seems a bit extravagant," Harry said. "Pointless, really. All this pomp, all this time and effort put into what's essentially a blood sport. And to make it a school event—that's like muggles deciding to revive gladiator games and going about to sixth-form students to ask if they want to have a go at it."

"It does seem rather…intense for a school event," Hermione said. "Most of those competing haven't even finished their education, yet they're being put up against deadly tasks. Why not make it similar to the Olympics? Surely it would be more entertaining to watch fully-trained adults take on these sorts of tasks."

"Less danger that way," Harry said. "Not as entertaining."

"D'you really think this was a deliberate decision?" Hermione asked, eyes going wide. "They picked the most dangerous option for—who am I kidding, of course they did."

"This society is brutal," Harry said. "I think they honestly lack any sort of empathy. Did you read that garbage that Rita Skeeter wrote about Nev? And most of these fools actually believed it? You'd think they hadn't shared a school with him for the past three years."

"It's mad," Hermione agreed. "Everything I've read speaks of the most reactionary and gullible people imaginable."

"And xenophobic," Harry said. "Don't forget that. Mum's favorite word to use to describe them."

"Look at us, chatting about boring politics on the way to a fun day out," Hermione giggled. "We should be deciding where to go first."

"Well, I did promise Uncle Sirius I'd send him some Honeydukes chocolate," Harry said. "Fancy stopping there first?"

"I suppose," Hermione said, and Harry grinned at her.

"Don't like candy?" he asked.

"Mum and Dad are dentists," Hermione said.

"I'm so sorry," Harry told her with a mock-somber expression, and Hermione gave him a gentle kick in the leg.

"Dentists provide a valuable service," she insisted. "They keep teeth clean and healthy."

"Yeah, and in the process, the poke and stick and prod at them with those metal tools that…scrape all over the place," Harry said with a shudder. "Mum took us a few times before Uncle Sirius finally got her to realize that Trippman's Tooth Tonic did all that needed doing."

"And straightening charms," Hermione said. "For these lovely crooked teeth of mine."

"I think you have nice teeth," Harry said. "Pretty smile."

"Well, that's because I had braces for several years," Hermione said, hoping the dim interior of the carriage hid the blush blooming over her cheeks. Harry thought her smile was pretty!? "And I did the tooth-shrinking charm, which my parents can never find out about, of course."

"Naturally," Harry chuckled. "In addition to the existence of Trippman's Tooth Tonic."

"Oh, that would shatter them," Hermione said. "I can't decide if they would be brokenhearted that their entire profession is moot in this world or absolutely livid that wizardkind hasn't shared their advancements with the muggles."

"Perfectly willing to swipe trains and busses and buildings, but one simple dental potion that would do some real good for muggles, absolutely not," Harry chuckled.

"One could easily market it as a mouthwash, and they would be none the wiser," Hermione said. "Of course…Mum and Dad would see a drastic decline in patients."

"You've found yourself at a real moral crossroads," Harry said with a smirk, and Hermione snickered at him.

The carriage trundled up to Hogsmeade, and they disembarked into a chilly Scottish day. The surrounding trees had lost much of their green, though plenty of conifers still remained amidst the tangle of brown branches and trunks. Hogsmeade Village looked lovely, and while it wasn't supposed to snow, a few flakes swirled in the slight gust blowing through the streets. Hermione was glad she had layered up.

"What's your favorite Hogsmeade shop?" Harry asked as they walked. "Tomes and Scrolls?"

"Actually, no," Hermione said with a playful nudge of her elbow. "Tomes and Scrolls is handy for ordering a particular book, but Flourish and Blott's is much better when you'd rather a book find you, if that makes sense."

"Sort of," Harry said. "So, your favorite shop in Hogsmeade is?"

"Proudly's Pastries, actually," Hermione said with a little smile. "Cho took me in there once, and I really like the little cakes they have. They're so…cute, I suppose. Sometimes I buy some of their scones and send them home to Mum and Dad."

"I've been in there," Harry said. "Mum and Dad actually had their first date at Proudly's."

"Aw, that's sweet," Hermione said. "Perhaps we should stop in after Honeydukes?"

"Daisy does love the little Neapolitan cakes he sells," Harry said. "Come to think of it, so do I."

"D'you have a bit of a sweet tooth?" Hermione asked him. "Honeydukes, Proudly's, butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks."

"You know, maybe I do," Harry said pensively. "Never gave it that much thought."

The Honeydukes trip was kept rather quick; the store was of course packed with students stockpiling sugary sweets while given the chance. Harry bought a brick of chocolate for his uncle and even threw in some Peppermint Toads for his mum.

"She loves them, and you can only get them from Honeydukes," Harry told her.

"What a wonderful son you are," Hermione told him.

"You know, I try my best," Harry said, "and it's nice to be recognized."

"Maybe they should have a Son's Day, like Mother's Day," Hermione said with a grin.

"I suggested that to Mum once," Harry said. "She told me it's called my birthday, and if I want another, I should try giving birth sometime."

As they left the store, Hermione let a snort, covering her mouth against a peal of laughter while Harry chuckled next to her.

"Your Mum sounds lovely," she said. A brisk wind whipped through, and she unconsciously huddled a bit closer to him, peering about. "Um…Proudly's next? Or did you want to go somewhere else?"

"We could go to Tomes and Scrolls," Harry said. "They have these really fancy enchanted planners they just got in. Seems right up your alley."

"That sounds like it would bore you to tears," Hermione said with a smile, and Harry shrugged.

"Well, you really helped me out with tutoring me," he said. "I figure I owe you a gift. Besides, from what I hear, you can actually link two planners together—you write in one and it shows up in the other, so you can make plans and the like. But it's also handy for keeping in touch."

"Like passing notes," Hermione said, feeling her face heat up.

"Well, basically," Harry said with a nervous little laugh. "I thought we could get two, and then it'd be easier to meet up to study or cancel plans or something."

"That's actually a really good idea," Hermione said. "Goodness, you've put a lot of thought into this."

"I do that sometimes," Harry shrugged. "Tomes and Scrolls, then?"

"Absolutely," Hermione said.

The trip to the bookstore was surprisingly quick (a first for Hermione), and Harry hauled the bag with their purchases while Hermione thanked him profusely—he only waved off the sentiment, chuckling at her.

"Thank my family," he said. "I suppose I come from money."

"I'll be sure to write your mum a letter," Hermione told him.

"Hopefully she doesn't grill me about you over Christmas," Harry muttered. "She's been on me to make a friend or two."

"Are you going home for Christmas?" Hermione asked. "I would've thought you'd stay for the Yule Ball."

"…The what?" Harry asked, nonplussed, and Hermione giggled.

"The Yule Ball," she said. "It's a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament. The host school also hosts a ball on the night of Christmas. It's open to fourth-years and above this year. Didn't you wonder why we had dress robes on the school list this year?"

"Not really," Harry said. "Seen some weird things on that list. Remember the year Gilderoy Lockhart pumped the entire student body for money?"

Hermione rolled her eyes that that. "Horrible," she muttered. "I can't believe Dumbledore actually hired that man."

"I can," Harry chuckled. "Dumbledore's a daft idiot."

"Well—you're not the only one that feels that way," Hermione said with a grimace. "The Prophet's been having a field day with him with Neville disappearing like he did. Anyway—we've gotten sidetracked."

"Us?" Harry chuckled. "Never."

"Do you think you might go to the Yule Ball?" Hermione asked him as they neared Proudly's Pastries. Harry looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Hmm," he noised, "dunno. I've never stayed at the castle over the holidays before. Too much fun to be had back home."

"Well, there's fun to be had at the castle now," Hermione said. "A dance, and all that."

"I'm not exactly the dancing sort," Harry said. "Social gatherings, crowds, loud music…"

"I think it could be fun if you went with a friend," Hermione told him. Harry smirked a bit at that, shooting a look down at her.

"Well, you're my only actual friend, remember?" he asked her. "Are you asking me to go with you to the Yule Ball?"

Hermione felt her face heat up, and she shrugged, peering at her feet. "Perhaps," she said. "I thought it could be…fun."

"…Oh," Harry said, his smirk fading to a bemused smile. "You'd…wanna go with me?"

"It doesn't have to be any big production," Hermione hastened to elaborate. "I've a lovely dress picked out, and Cho will probably want to cake on some makeup and fancy my hair up. We can dance a few times, have some fun, and just…enjoy each other's company like we've been doing."

"I guess that does sound fun, put that way" Harry said. "Honestly, once Mum finds out about this thing, she'll all but demand I go and take pictures all dressed up."

"Well, think of the points you'll get if you tell her you're escorting the girl that got you a passing grade in Arithmancy," Hermione told him.

"Shrewd," Harry chuckled. "Very shrewd, Granger. Yeah, alright. I'd be honored to take you to the Yule Ball."

"Wonderful," Hermione said, trying not to sound overeager and desperately hoping the thudding of her heart in her chest wasn't as loud as it sounded to her.

Surely he could hear it as well!

They had reached the pastry shop, and Harry held the door open for her again. Inside, the place smelled lovely, the scent of all manner of baked treats filling the air. Right inside, a large glass display case bore an assortment of magical sweets, from tiny cakes to chocolate bars to single-scoop bowls of delicate mousse. Next to the case sat a large old cash till, which was currently being operated by a girl that looked fresh out of Hogwarts. To the right, a large archway led to a dining area. Despite it only being late November, the shop was decorated for the season, with colored lights slowly floating freely around the ceiling in a constantly shifting sea of sparkles.

"Welcome to Proudly's!" the girl said as soon as they walked in. "Have a seat, menus are on the tables."

"Um…did you want to sit?" Harry asked. "Whatever they're making that smells like chocolate, I'm thinking I might like to try some."

"Most likely those quatre quarts they're advertising," Hermione said, pointing to the chalkboard menu behind the counter, which bore large blinking words announcing a new type of cake. "It's a French loaf cake, essentially a pound cake. It's actually quite tasty. They serve it with coffee or tea."

"You've had it?" Harry asked, already leading her toward a table.

"Mhm," Hermione nodded. "I holidayed in France last summer. It was lovely."

"I thought French food was all snails and such," Harry said distastefully as they sat. Hermione giggled, shaking her head at him.

"They do serve escargot, but that's hardly all they have to offer," she said. "French cuisine is some of the best you'll ever have."

"What was your favorite dish?" Harry asked once they had ordered their cakes and coffee.

"Hm…salmon caprese, I'd say," Hermione said. "It's the one I remember the most. It was so delicious and served with these little tomatoes."

"Blech, tomatoes," Harry said. "Hate them."

"You don't like tomatoes?" Hermione asked, finding herself unduly fascinated at this miniscule insight.

"Never have," Harry said. "Mum would always make me try them to see if I liked them yet, and I just…didn't. But, I like nearly every other vegetable, where Daisy's much too picky over them, so she doesn't mind that I just don't like tomatoes."

"The three of you must be very close," Hermione observed. They were served their cakes, and Hermione took a bite of hers, followed almost immediately by another—deliciously chocolatey with a hint of buttery smoothness. Mum and Dad would no doubt chide her for eating something so laden with sugar, though it would be a simple matter to distract them with the news that she had not only a new friend but also a possible boyfriend.

Dad would be scandalized—Mum would probably be ecstatic.

"We were pretty much all we had growing up," Harry said. "Uncle Sirius was there a lot, but he had his own family to keep track of. He couldn't always be around. And Uncle Remus…he always seemed to be on hard times, due to his…issue."

Hermione had found out recently that "Uncle Remus" was in fact Remus Lupin, a former professor who had resigned after it had gotten out that he was afflicted with lycanthropy. Yet another scandal in a school full of them. Apparently, he and Harry's father had been close friends throughout school, along with Uncle Sirius.

"Didn't you have friends?" Hermione asked, and Harry chuckled.

"Not likely," he said. "We live in the middle of nowhere in Cornwall, by Porthpean Beach."

"Oh, that must be lovely, though," Hermione said. "It sounds peaceful."

"It's certainly quiet," Harry said, taking a massive bite of his cake. "Oh, good cake. Where d'you live? Oh, wait, you told Hedwig. Uh…Hampstead, yeah? London?"

"Mhm," Hermione said. "Nice neighborhood. Lots of kids my own age growing up, but…none of them really wanted to play with me."

"Because you're a bookish nerd and not shy about it?" Harry asked quite bluntly.

"Well…yes," Hermione huffed.

"Eh, hang 'em," Harry said with an airy wave of his hand. "Who've you got to impress?"

"Well…I was a bit insufferable," Hermione admitted.

"Everyone starts out insufferable," Harry shrugged. "The point is getting better."

"That's…a profoundly simple way of looking at it," Hermione said.

"That's me, profoundly simple," Harry said, and Hermione nudged his foot softly under the table.

"Oh, hush," she said. "I've already told you you're frightfully complex."

Taking a bite of his cake, Harry studied her with a grin before taking a sip of coffee. "You mind telling Daisy that sometime?" he asked her.

"But I want her to like me," Hermione snickered, and Harry cackled out a laugh.

"So do I."

I had no idea how to end this one. I figured I'd just end on a funny and bounce to the next chapter.

I've also been having another damnable IDEA for a fic, which I might poke at and post for consideration.

Feedback is always appreciated!