Apparating in the middle of a busy market town in Surrey required a degree of stealth and pre-planning to not draw unnecessary (and illegal) attention. The sudden appearance of a young man in his mid-twenties would be noticeable, so Harry Potter wisely chose to arrive in a concealed alleyway off the street. The unavoidable crack of his magic reverberated around the dark and dank alcove but was soon absorbed in the ambient sounds of Godalming's busy street beyond. Harry immediately grumbled as he stepped out to balance himself, shoes splashing in an inch of rain water. While he had planned enough to make sure he didn't break the International Statute of Secrecy, he hadn't checked the weather. It was chucking it down and he didn't bring an umbrella.
His Invisibility Cloak kept him dry for the moment, but raindrops were streaming off the cloth, making it obvious that there was something invisible in the rain. Harry pulled the cloak off, rain soaking into his jacket and jeans. He hastily stuffed the cloak in one of his magically expanded pockets before slipping his wand up his sleeve into his wrist holder. Hunching his shoulders in the rain, he hurried out of the alleyway, making haste. The heavy rain at least made him inconspicuous as just another unfortunate soul caught out in the deluge.
He navigated his way onto Church Street, peering through his glasses down the road to his destination. Resigned to the fact that he was going to have to sit through drinks while wet, he picked up his pace to a half jog. Crossing the road, he made a beeline for the pub, The Star Inn.
Unsurprisingly, the pub was thin on patrons as few had made the trip into town with the weather as poor as it was. A few regulars were assembled at the bar, a couple of tables occupied with families tucking into their dinner. Otherwise, it was relatively quiet for what was usually a very busy pub. The hubbub usually made it perfect as a choice for a private conversation to take place without anyone listening in.
"Typical British summer, eh?"
A pair sat near the door, still wearing their high-vis jackets from where they had clearly just finished work addressed Harry as he took off his glasses to wipe off the rain. He let out a dry chuckle.
"Looks like it," Harry remarked once he restored his glasses, giving the two men a friendly nod. They smiled amicably back before going back to their conversation. Not a hint of recognition passed their faces as they looked upon the visage of the most famous living wizard in the magical world, completely oblivious that they were in the presence of a man heralded as the 'Modern Merlin'. Harry could even get away with swiping his wet hair back from his face, exposing the scar that was still visible on his brow. When among muggles, they mostly didn't stare at his visible disfigurement, even with its unnatural shape. It was always refreshing to not be stared at.
He made his way over to the bar where he caught the attention of the barkeeper.
"A pint of bitter, please?" Harry requested as the man came over, nodding in response, "and can I open a tab? I'm meeting someone."
"No problem. Name?"
"Harry Potter."
Relaxing at the lack of reaction his name caused, Harry leaned against the bar. He checked the clock on the wall. He was a couple minutes early. He smiled his thanks at the barkeeper when he set down a slightly frothy pint of ale in front of him. Starting to feel a little awkward, Harry busied himself with drinking a few sips as he waited. He wasn't waiting too long when the door wrenched open. In trudged a very bulky man. He ducked his head as he entered, avoiding the low rafters. The glass in the door rattled as it shut behind him.
Unlike Harry, the man had prepared for the weather, taking off his waterproof jacket which he hung up on the coat stand at the door. Water dripped onto the wooden floor underneath. The boards creaked as he then lumbered over to the bar, running his hand through his locks as Harry had done, only his were dry. His hair was also blonde where Harry's was black, eyes blue where Harry's were green. As he joined Harry at the bar, there was nothing to give away that they were cousins.
"Same for me," Dudley Dursley grunted as the barkeeper came for his order, gesturing at the pint in front of Harry.
"On my tab, please," Harry then added.
"You're paying?" Dudley asked in surprise. Harry gave a small shrug in response. "Huh, thanks."
"You're welcome," Harry idly tapped his fingers on the bar as the man filled Dudley's drink, "are you driving?"
"Nah, Monnie's picking me up."
"Ah," Harry picked up his drink as Dudley was given his, "shall we…?"
"Right," Dudley nodded, sipping at the over-full glass before leading the way to find a table. Harry warily glanced around, his paranoia impossible to quell even when he knew that the chances of meeting anyone magical were very slim. Dudley appeared to draw the most attention, being the wall of muscle he was. A lot had changed since he was a porky, petulant brat. All that fat had been converted into muscle and his behavioural issues were channelled out in the boxing ring. Dudley had managed to have some success out of punching people - which surprised Harry the least as he had the dubious honour of being his first punching bag.
Boxing had done Dudley a world of good, though what really allowed him to grow up had been moving out of Privet Drive. Away from his parents and their bad influence, he'd been able to make some positive changes. A year in hiding had helped that along, humbling him when he experienced first-hand how serious the threat was on their lives at the time. Then after, when the danger was gone, he'd matured enough to think for himself. One such decision had been to reach out to his only cousin and make an attempt to restart their relationship.
They weren't as close as they should be. Born only a month apart and having grown up together, they should be like brothers. Over the past eight years, meeting up every few months for drinks, they had struck some sort of kinship. Harry couldn't quite shake off his hurt and mistrust left over from years and years of abuse. While he reasoned that Dudley hadn't known any better when they were young boys, it was hard to forget that his cousin was responsible for his loneliness and fear that perpetuated most of his childhood. Dudley in return was still afraid of magic and refused to be near anything obviously magical. Meeting in muggle pubs ensured that he was safe and Harry avoided getting recognised.
They settled down in a secluded corner at the back of the pub. Dudley's chair creaked in protest under his weight.
"Do you mind if I dry my clothes?" Harry asked once he sat down, grimacing at the uncomfortable dampness that clung to his jeans. "I got soaked on the way."
"Sure, go ahead."
Harry discreetly drew his wand under the table and cast a non-verbal drying spell on his sodden garments. He left his hair wet, not wanting to cause too much attention to his sudden dryness. Dudley looked pointedly away from the display of magic, drinking his beer.
"So what's new with you?" Harry triggered the conversation once his wand was away again.
"Uh, well, we're going ahead with making some real plans… well, Monnie is."
"Plans?" Harry queried, brow raised. Dudley flashed a nervous grimace.
"Yeah, for our wedding."
"Oh right," Harry wasn't sure what to say. He was genuinely happy that Dudley had settled down and found love. Being in a relationship had taught Dudley some valuable life lessons, ones about kindness and common decency. Something that his parents had failed to do. The thought of Dudley getting married however just felt bizarre. Even though they were both adults, Harry still had trouble believing that Dudley could ever grow up despite witnessing evidence to prove it.
"Yeah, we're thinking about next August. It'll have to be during a school holiday because, well, you know, Monnie being a teacher and all. She, uh, wants the full thing… wants us to get married in Little Whinging. And… she wants you to be there."
Harry nearly choked on his beer, putting it down before he inhaled it or sprayed it all over his cousin. He stared at him, stunned for a second.
"Don't look so shocked," Dudley said gruffly, "I'd like you to be there too. It's not as if I've got any other cousins or family other than you and Aunt Marge."
Harry stared at him, dazed. "You want me at your wedding?"
Dudley looked uncomfortable, busying himself with his beer for a moment before meeting Harry's gaze.
"Well, I do, yeah. There's not really a good excuse for you not to be invited. Not when all my old friends from school still remember that you lived with us."
It was Harry's turn then to drink his beer instead of coming up with something immediately to say. While Dudley had been engaged for a couple of years, Harry had not fully considered that he'd get married or that Harry would have some obligation to be present for it. Harry swallowed, knowing that he couldn't refuse.
"What about your parents?" He decided to be the one to bring them up. "They definitely won't want me to be there."
"It's not their wedding," Dudley said firmly, his eyes hardening, muscle jumping in his jaw. Harry let out a breath, sitting back.
"Let me guess, you've told them that you're inviting me?" Dudley sighed, an answer in itself. Harry shook his head disbelievingly, reaching for his beer. "I bet that went as well as I'm imagining," he said before having another large gulp of his drink.
"You know what dad's temper is like so, yeah, you probably have a good idea," Dudley said with a strange bitterness to his voice, a flash of pain flickering over his features for a moment.
"Right," Harry knew all too well what Vernon Dursley was like when angered. "Well, I'm… touched that you want me to be there, but the last thing I want is to cause problems."
"You're not the problem," Dudley pointed out, looking up at him, "and dad won't dare cause a scene. Not when he's out to impress Monnie's family. If I could get him to not flip out, would you think about coming?"
Harry closed his eyes briefly. It would only be for a day, just one day where he would have to stomach being in the same vicinity as his relatives and their animosity. He could manage just one day with the Dursleys. After all, it would be the only time he'd be attending a wedding as an actual family member.
It was a sobering thought, one that needed another mouthful of beer to wash it down. He set the glass back, meeting his cousin's gaze.
"Alright, if you want me there, I'll be there," Harry said carefully. Dudley looked astonished. "What, did you think I'd say 'no'?"
"I did actually," Dudley admitted, "I'd not blame you. It's not just my parents you'd have to deal with and Marge. There will be a fair few people from Little Whinging… and Piers will be my best man."
Harry let out a huff through his nostrils.
"Well, as long as we don't reenact a game of 'Harry Hunting', I'll survive," he said dryly. Dudley winced at his comment, finishing his beer. "Do they know that we've, er, settled our differences?"
"Yeah and, well, you may be asked about what it was like in prison," Dudley said once he set his empty glass on the table with a curt tap. Harry raised his brows at him. "They all think you've been inside, remember?"
"Oh, right," Harry chuckled lightly, "I forgot about that. Well, that saves me from having to think about a cover story. What was it that I was supposed to have done?"
"Arson, I think."
"Really? That's a bit disappointing, but I guess it fits with the whole juvenile delinquent thing that I ended up stuck with. Are you sure you want your future in-laws to believe that your cousin is an ex-convict?"
"I think it's kinda cool," Dudley said with a shrug. Harry snorted softly.
"Of course you do. You're the one who was actually setting bins on fire."
"That wasn't me. That was Malcolm," Dudley said, pushing himself up to his feet. "Another?" He pointed at Harry's nearly empty glass.
"I'm paying, aren't I?" Harry responded, his way of saying 'yes'. Dudley clattered off to get them refills, leaving Harry to dwell upon the ludicrous stories that his aunt and uncle made up about him to further alienate him from everyone he came into contact with while staying at Privet Drive for the summers.
Harry knew he should be angry and upset that they still persisted with the lies to discredit him. Unlike their son, they hadn't shown him any gratitude or respect when they were able to come out of hiding and return home. He visited them just once to give them his contact details in the case of an emergency. Vernon made it very clear that he wasn't to ever show up again… and Harry was more than happy to oblige his request. He didn't care about them and they certainly made it abundantly clear throughout his life that they cared very little about him.
Dudley soon returned with their pints and a packet of salted peanuts. Harry sat quietly, pensive while Dudley offered him some nuts. He took a couple, absently eating them, not remarking on how Dudley as a boy would never have offered to share anything with anyone, much less Harry.
"So… what about you? Anything normal you can share?" Dudley broke the slightly awkward silence, pausing in scoffing down the peanuts. Harry picked up the new pint, considering the question.
"Probably not," he said bluntly before drinking from his pint glass. He met Dudley's gaze, huffing out a breath from his nostrils. "Even though I'm not working in the Ministry anymore, my life is still very much not normal. And I'm definitely not planning for a wedding. Sort of need to be in a relationship first and that's never going to happen any time soon."
Harry closed his mouth, face warming as he realised that he overshared. He frowned at the beer in front of him. Dudley appeared confused.
"You're single?" His cousin asked him, looking him up and down, confusion giving away to blank surprise. "I thought you were with the red-head."
It was Harry's turn to be confused. "Wait, what? You thought I'm still with Ginny? For Fuck's sake, Dudley, I broke up with her years ago."
"Yeah, well, it's a bit hard to keep track of what you get up to," Dudley grumbled, helping himself to more peanuts.
"I've dated since Ginny. Pretty sure that I've told you about Katie," Harry said, frowning at him, "but I suppose it's not like I talk about my hook-ups… which they pretty much are at this point. Katie tried, at least, to deal with the constant attention… but being my girlfriend comes with a lot of baggage."
Harry sighed, miserably picking up his beer and downing large, irresponsible gulps. Dudley uncomfortably kept himself busy with the peanuts. After the silence stretched, Dudley cleared his throat.
"What about… your friend? The one with all the hair?"
A snicker escaped Harry at Dudley's terrible memory for names and much else besides. It was so strange for someone to not know the names of Harry's best friends, especially Hermione who had become equally as famous as him in her own right as she battled to become the first Muggleborn Minister of Magic.
"You mean Hermione?"
"Yeah… oh, I think so. That's her name," Dudley frowned, considering his beer for a moment, "it's not a very common name, is it?"
"Er… I don't think so," Harry eyed Dudley, puzzled at his question.
"I'm sure Monnie has a cousin called 'Hermione'. I think I saw that name on the guestlist."
"Huh, well, Hermione's like my mum - her parents are mug- normal. They didn't name her after anything, you know, odd. Actually, I think she was named after a Shakespeare character and he definitely wasn't a wizard."
Dudley cleared his throat pointedly at Harry using the 'w' word. Harry just shrugged, drinking more beer.
"Oh, right, well… then why don't you try dating her?" Dudley asked, bringing the topic back to Harry's miserable love life. Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "What? You obviously get on… is she single?"
"Yeah, she is but that's not the point. I can't…" Harry sighed. "It's complicated. There's like… an unwritten rule between us. We're friends. Just friends. And besides, if I did make a move, she'd slap me into the next century. She, uh… is with someone. Like I said, it's complicated."
"Oh… wait. I remember. Wasn't she with your mate?"
Harry blew out a breath, meeting Dudley's gaze over his beet. "Yep. They've been on and off for years since we were teenagers. We've even started making wagers on how long it'll be before they announce that they're on another break… but they keep trying."
"Huh… doesn't sound like it's going well," Dudley remarked. Harry scoffed out a laugh. If Dudley of all people could work that out, then it had to be obvious.
"It's a fucking mess and I'm right in the middle, always there to pick up the pieces," Harry sighed, "It does make me a bit relieved that I'm stuck in my bachelor life. No complications. Just me and my dog."
"Huh, well… I guess it's much simpler," Dudley said thoughtfully, then frowned again. "You have a dog?"
Harry dropped his head into his hands.
Two pints later, they stood at the bar with Harry thumbing his way through the bank notes in his wallet. Dudley lounged, a little slack-jawed at Harry flashing his cash. The barkeep eyed him curiously, only then wondering who he was serving at his pub and what kind of man in his mid-twenties went around with £50 notes in his pocket. Harry sheepishly admitted to the man that he didn't have anything smaller, passing him a fifty. He could see the gathering attention, musing that if someone did try to follow him and rob him, they would get a lot more than they bargained for.
Though more likely than not, they'd just end up following him into an empty alleyway where he'd vanish without a trace. Him and his money.
Once the tab was settled, Harry followed Dudley out of the pub. The rain had mercifully stopped. The street was still slick with rainwater, murky puddles pooled under the kerbs where the traffic threatened to splash the weary walkers on the pavement. Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets, walking with his cousin to the end of the street where his wife-to-be was waiting in her car. Harry stopped short as they reached the turning down to the car park.
"I'll, um, head off here. Saves you having to explain why I don't need a lift," Harry said to Dudley, fingers brushing his Invisibility Cloak in his expanded pocket.
"Ah, right. See you then," Dudley said gruffly. They exchanged a rather awkward handshake.
"Yeah, see you Big D."
Harry waited a moment on the street corner, watching as Dudley turned to give him a wave. He returned it, giving a small laugh. Taking a deep breath, he looked around to check that he had no obvious tails. Before Dudley made it to the parked car waiting for him, Harry had already Disapparated from behind some bins.
Slamming doors, while very cathartic, was also very childish. Hermione Granger would not admit so much aloud, not after she delivered one of her most earth-shattering door slams to date. In her fury, she may have released a little magic, judging from the rattling windows that she heard in her wake. Fuming, she didn't pick a destination. She just had ' get away ' in mind. Leave before you do or say something you'll regret. She at least had the presence of mind to leave the row with her handbag having snatched it off the side before marching out of the cottage. She stormed down the path to the boundaries where she could apparate.
Minutes later, she was bundled up under a blanket while her mum made her a cup of tea without any sugar. While there were many things that made up Hermione's life that neither of her parents would understand, they could recognise the signs of a lovers' tiff. Or, in her daughter's case, just another argument with ' that arse Ronald Weasley'. Any attempts to persuade her that maybe, just maybe, her and Ron weren't working out fell on deaf ears. Their brilliant daughter was the shining light of Wizarding Britain, heralding them into a new age of equality and prosperity. Yet she also was very much in denial. With as much determination as she wanted to fix the outdated Ministry of Magic, she wanted to fix things between her and Ron.
Once her mum set down a steaming mug of tea in front of her, she sighed as she joined Hermione at the breakfast bar in the Grangers' kitchen. A cheesy pop song played in the background on the radio, so horribly at odds with the spiky, hostile pain lodged in Hermione's heart. Miranda Granger patted her hands gently, making Hermione look up at her through puffy eyes.
"I'm stupid," Hermione whispered, sniffing in the aftermath of some explosive angry tears. The crying had been just as cathartic as the door slamming.
"You aren't stupid, darling," her mum said softly, "he's your first love. It's hard to let go."
"But why do I keep going back? Why do I delude myself that this time, he really means it, that's he's really sorry and will try harder?"
Her mum let out a soft hum of sympathy.
"You need to spend time apart."
"But we can't… we can't do that to Harry," she moaned, clutching at the mug in front of her, "we have to fix this, learn how to be civil for his sake."
"Neither of you are giving one another the space to heal… and you're tricking each other into believing that the best way to fix things is to make them as they were. It isn't working."
Hermione silently digested her mother's counsel. She tried to pin-point the exact moment when things started to go wrong. When did the moments of sweetness turn sour? There wasn't a specific moment, no turning point where things just shifted. They always bickered, always butted heads, but she'd always seen it as if they were challenging each other. It wasn't right or healthy to be in conflict more often than they were in harmony.
Yet the alternative of trying again, of picking up the pieces, was to go their separate ways. To do that, they would have to break the trio. She'd likely end up as a pariah to the Weasleys. And then there was Harry. It wasn't fair, making him choose between them all the time. She knew he was tired of it. They all were.
She then wondered if she had damaged Harry's front door in her fury. She chewed on her lip. He'd tried, again, to get her and Ron to talk and at least be civil. He managed to drum up a friendly accord with Ginny after he split up with her. He even managed to reconcile with his bully of a cousin who seemingly had turned over a new leaf. Harry had become a rather successful mediator in his adult years, a skill that he put to great use privately and publicly. Unfortunately, even the 'Man Who Conquered' couldn't stop her and Ron verbally swiping at each other.
She owed Harry an apology. There he was, acting as the adult in their dysfunctional trio, and she had thrown a tantrum. This would be the last time. She had to move on from Ron. The only way was forwards, not back.
Once she finished her tea, she thanked her mum for her advice and ear. She went into the conservatory with her mobile, bracing herself for what was due to be an awkward conversation with Harry. She gulped nervously when she saw that she had a missed call from him but he hadn't left a message. Unlike Ron, Harry had been more than happy to buy himself a mobile phone, not phobic of modern technology like most wizards - or willfully ignorant as was Ron's case.
Harry picked up after three rings. She heard his angry sigh, not a good sign, before he answered.
"Was all that really necessary, Hermione?"
"No, I'm sorry-."
"Yeah, you're sorry. That's all either you ever are. I heard the word enough from Ron just now for it to lose all meaning. Oh, yeah, by the way, he's sorry too."
Heat started to rise to her face. She hadn't heard his voice turn icy when talking to her, not in a very long time.
"I'm finding it very hard to be sympathetic when neither of you even try. You want to be heard but you don't listen. It's like being stuck in a tornado when it comes to you two. You just go around and around each other, causing destruction in your wake. Why can't you see that he's making you utterly miserable, Hermione?"
That wasn't what she expected. Hermione's mouth hung open, a second of silence passing where all she heard was Harry's heavy breath as he sighed again. Tired this time.
"I know this is my fault too," Harry then said, "I shouldn't have gotten involved this time and tried to force a parlay. I just… hoped, you know."
"It isn't your fault. None of this is your fault," Hermione insisted quickly before Harry locked himself in a spiral of self-blame. "It's us. We shouldn't be doing this to you. I know it isn't fair."
"It's grinding us all down. I won't lie and say I'm having the time of my life. I hate seeing both of you hurt… where are you now?"
"At my parents' place."
"Ah okay. Good. You're not alone," Harry said, sounding relieved. The change in his tone made Hermione's eyes sting. Even when he was pissed off with her, he still could be concerned. That was Harry. He never stopped looking out for her and Ron.
"Did… Ron leave?" She asked hesitantly.
"He went to George's. I… told him to leave. Look… I'm pissed off with both of you, but Ron… what he said was out of order. I know he started it and, more often than not, he's the one who does. My door's always open for you… though that might be because you broke it on the way out."
Hermione cringed. "That wasn't my finest moment."
"Well, you can make it up to me by repairing it… and my cactus that fell off the window sill."
"Sorry…"
"It's alright. It's not a plant sent by Neville so I'm not, you know, choking in toxic spores or something. So… do you want to come back? I need to walk Oscar in a bit, but we can get takeaway and watch telly…"
Just like that, things were back to being easy and comfortable. Hermione relaxed, seeing movement in the reflection of the conservatory windows. She looked over her shoulder, seeing her mum watching, smiling encouragingly from the doorway. Hermione smiled back.
"That sounds nice," she said honestly, "I can get a bottle of wine on the way."
"Yeah, you probably need it. Me too, actually."
"I'll be by in an hour," Hermione told him, "see you later."
"Yep. Bye. "
She lowered the phone from her ear, feeling positively serene compared to how she'd been when showing up at her parents' front door. She went over to her mum, flushing at the very knowing look on her face.
"Everything is going to be fine, darling," her mum assured her, kissing her on the cheek, "oh, before you leave, I need you to put a date in your diary."
Hermione distractedly listened as she went into the kitchen to fetch her handbag, her mother following her.
"Oh, what for?"
"Monica's getting married on the twelfth of August. The invitation arrived today," her mother informed her. Hermine snatched her handbag up from the breakfast bar, frowning as she tried to work out who she was talking about and why the wedding had anything to do with her. The name then clicked and she stared at her mum in surprise.
"I haven't spoken to Monica since we were ten!"
"Yes, well, you tend to find that when you get older, the only times you see extended family is during weddings and funerals. At least this is the less morbid of the two," her mum pointed out. Hermione frowned. She'd been to enough funerals to last a lifetime - and most of them happened during the same week.
"I'll remember," Hermione said with a distracted wave, "let me know the details."
"Will do," her mum said, smiling at her with that annoying, knowing glint in her eye, "give Harry my love, will you?"
Hermione nodded absently, accepting another kiss on the cheek. In her eagerness to leave and make amends with Harry, she passed by the fridge where the wedding invitation had been pinned in place with a magnet.
Exactly four hours since she had stormed out in furious tears, Hermione reappeared at the gate of Harry's home. His cottage was only a couple of miles away from his family home in Godric's Hollow. He'd bought the house not long after the war, making it his little project to turn it into a place to call his own. Far from the bustle of city-living and very far from prying eyes, it was a very modest abode for the most famous living wizard in existence. One of the reasons Harry bought the cottage was for the acres of sweeping countryside that came with it, wide open space that he could use to fly and not have a care in the world.
Night having fallen since she Disapparated, the front garden was cast in darkness, hiding the carefully tended-to flower beds and shrubs that Harry lovingly maintained. He did everything by hand, pruning, planting, weeding and watering. His privately kept quirks were all on display in his home, making it clear to all guests that while he was wealthy and famous, he was humble yet house-proud.
Huffing out a wry laugh, Hermione noticed at once that Harry had repaired any damage that she'd left in her temper - if she had indeed caused any havoc. Carrying a bottle of wine that she just purchased at Harry's local Sainsburys, she knocked on the door. Shadows moved in the light spilling from the front room. She heard Harry inside, his footsteps joining in with the ambient sounds of the countryside at night. He opened the door, allowing her to step in, guilt pressing down on her as she looked up at him. He didn't say a word, just giving her a look that told her everything she needed to know. She was forgiven and that was that.
She took a single step inside before someone small and white raced across the bleached floorboards towards her. Barking filled the silence as Oscar rushed up to her legs, jumping up at once. He was at least happy to see her. Hermione smiled, her face warm under the weight of Harry's stare. He turned from her to shut the door. She stooped down, scratching his Westie behind the ears. She could hear the drone of Harry's television come from his living room.
Once she stood straight, she faced Harry, clutching the neck of the wine bottle. She held it out to him to take. He sighed out his nose, taking it, but his gaze remained on her face. His eyes had softened.
"Come here," he said, opening up his arms. Hermione didn't hesitate, rushing forwards so he could hug her. It was a rare thing for Harry to initiate a hug - usually he never got the chance with her. "I made up the spare room for you if you want to stay the night."
She burrowed her face into his shoulder. Harry was so effortless with his kindness. His hand rubbed a circle in her back before letting her go. He left his hand on her shoulder for a moment, his green eyes searching her face.
"I shouldn't. It's… probably not appropriate," she said hesitantly. Harry snorted, shaking his head.
"Oh yeah. I forgot I was going to owl The Daily Prophet and tell them that I'm putting up my best friend's ex for the night."
"You know what I mean," she said, but then she shook her head. "Oh, to Hell with him and what he thinks. Why do I care?" Harry tilted his head to the side, giving her a warning look. She huffed, crossing her arms. "Fine, enough about him. Let's just… just forget about him and earlier."
"It never happened. I haven't seen you since yesterday morning," Harry agreed with a mischievous glint in his eye as he went to take the wine into the kitchen. Hermione kicked off her shoes, sighing as the vestiges of the stress and pain started to ease away.
Joining Harry in the kitchen, she went to help fetch glasses while he went about opening the bottle. While he was busy with the corkscrew, she headed into the adjoined living room. The cosy space closely resembled the Gryffindor Common Room with deep burgundy furnishings and golden accents here and there. The wooden furniture was homely, picked out to be more traditional than modern. A red and umber rug covered most of the floor atop which was a handsome coffee table, a smoothed down slab of old oak. Set up on the mantlepiece, Harry had a few curiosities on display. In the centre, there was a clock that showed the lunar cycle. He had a miniature Firebolt on a stand and then, beside it, there was a framed photograph of his parents. His personality radiated from every item in the room, including the electronics. He had no trouble adapting to both magic and technology, a child of both worlds.
Hermione set the glasses down on the table, noticing that Harry hadn't tidied away his mail. The open letters hadn't been there earlier. Usually, she wouldn't be curious, but the letters were paper and not parchment. One was brightly coloured, a folded invitation of some sorts. It definitely wasn't magical. When Harry appeared, she straightened, not wanting to be seen sticking her nose in his business after she had already made a spectacle of herself earlier. He set the open bottle down, dropping himself heavily in the squashy sofa.
"What's on tonight?" Hermione asked him as she went to fill up their glasses while Harry took the remote control from the sofa arm.
"Some reality TV thing probably. Might be a film on later…" He said as went to put something on to watch. Hermione absently looked down at the invitation that caught her eye earlier as she filled up the glasses. Her eyes widened as she read the shiny gold letters. It was a wedding invitation.
Who does Harry know-?
Her thoughts abruptly cut out, guttering with utter shock as she read the names of the happy couple. Gasping hoarsely, her hands jerked. The bottle slipped from her fingers and white wine splashed in a stream on the floor. Harry swore as it soaked his socks.
Instead of fixing the mess she'd made, she clunked the bottle on the table. She snatched the invitation from under the envelope that had partially concealed the full contents. Her head was swimming…
"I… I don't believe it!" She choked out.
"Wh-what…?" Harry was staring at her in alarm now, likely worried that she had lost her mind. Maybe she had. He had his wand out, already clearing up the split wine. "I know it's shocking that my cousin's getting married but-."
Hermione's breath turned to a choked wheeze as she turned to look at Harry. The date of the wedding and the name of the bride… the chances of them being the same as the wedding that she had just found out about that very evening… could Harry's cousin just happen to be marrying someone with the same name as her cousin on the same day?
"I… think I may have to call my mum," she said in a thin voice. That appeared to alarm Harry further.
"Why? What's wrong?" He asked, scared and confused. She drew in a deep breath, steadying herself. She looked back down at the wedding invitation.
You have been cordially invited to the wedding of:
Monica May Baxter
Dudley Bernard Dursley
On 12th August 2006
"Harry… there may be a possibility… that our cousins are getting married," she announced once she double-checked the names on the invitation. Granted, she couldn't actually remember her cousin's middle name, but to have the same first and last names and the date… it was too much of a coincidence. And her experience had told her to not dismiss it when things ended up to be providential. She was currently sharing a sofa with a child of prophecy.
The fabled Chosen One was currently staring at her as his face rapidly started to lose colour. At first, he was utterly gobsmacked, but then his eyes widened with horror.
"Your cousin is Monica Baxter?" He then gasped out, his voice just as hoarse with shock as hers. "No… no way. That's not possible."
"You know her?"
"Well, this Monica went to the same primary school as me and Dudley in Surrey-"
Hermione's hands then threw up to her mouth. "Oh my God, my uncle's family live in Surrey."
Harry just stared at her, then he shook his head. "Don't tell me they live in Little Whinging."
A small squeak escaped Hermione. "It rings a bell."
"Fuck… fuck… how? The chances…" Harry threw his hands on his head. "I grew up in the same town as your cousin! Our cousins are getting married! "
They both stared at each other, the sounds of the TV adverts filling the silence between them. Then, at the same time, they both burst out laughing.
Her hands scrabbled for her ribs as near wails of mirth erupted out of her. It was so mad, so insane, it just had to be true. She felt dizzy as she laughed, not enough oxygen getting to her brain as she laughed instead of breathing properly. Tears were smarting in her eyes, very different to the ones that had spilled earlier. Harry, at her side, was smacking the sofa with his hand, his face now red as he laughed as hard as she was. She couldn't remember seeing him laugh so hard, not in many years. In fact, she couldn't remember when she had laughed so hard.
"Are… are you going to call your mum?" Harry recovered from the laughing fit first, enough to make coherent sounds. Hermione wiped at her face, giggling.
"No… I don't think I need to. Did you get this today?" She asked him, waving the invitation that was still clutched in her hand.
"Yeah, I opened it when you… uh, earlier," Harry said as he started to sober up.
"Mum got hers in the post today. She told me to save the date before I left… it's the same date and, well, my cousin is called 'Monica Baxter'. She's my cousin on my mum's side… so, not a Granger," she explained faintly, resting the back of her hand on her forehead.
Harry gaped at her. "The same date?"
"Yeah, too many coincidences."
"Maybe… we should confirm it," Harry suggested, pointing down to her handbag where she left it on the floor. "For sanity's sake."
Not having much to argue against his logic, Hermione fished for her mobile phone. Harry took over filling their glasses, not spilling any on the floor. By the time he finished pouring, Hermione had her mobile on speaker, the dial-tone ringing. Harry turned down the TV volume.
"Darling, is everything okay? "
"Yes, yes, fine, mum… this is going to sound a bit mad, but… you know you said Monica is getting married. Do you know the name of her fiance?"
She stared at Harry as she spoke, seeing that he had his breath held as he stared at her phone. They could hear her mum moving the phone.
"I've got the invitation on the fridge, just a sec- yes, it's Hermione… on the sofa where you left it, dear…"
The responding drone of her dad rumbled in the distance as her mum spoke both to her husband and the phone.
"Oh, it's quite an interesting name. Dudley Dursley…"
"Holy shit!"
"What was that?"
"Um, just Harry. Mum, you aren't going to believe this but… that's Harry's cousin."
"Monica's marrying a wizard? "
"No, he's muggle," Harry cut in, "um, hi Mrs Granger. Sorry about… um… my language earlier."
"Good grief! Are you sure? I mean, I do suppose it's an unusual name..."
"Harry's been invited as well so… it's definitely the same wedding," Hermione said, still staring at Harry who was gaping down at the invitation, shocked all over again. "Thanks for… confirming. Talk later."
"Yes, yes… oh, it's a small world!" Her mum exclaimed just before the line cut out and she hung up. Hermione dropped her phone on her lap. Harry shook his head disbelievingly, a laugh roughly passing his lips. He took up his glass, raising it at Hermione.
"To a small world, I guess," he said, smiling. Hermione leaned forwards, overwhelmed as she finally deposited the invitation back on the table. She took up her glass, tilting to the side so she could tap her glass against Harry's.
"To a small world… and to the happy couple."