Hindsight was a wonderful thing, Hermione lamented as she was helplessly guided towards reuniting with her cousin. Perhaps speaking with her cousin for the first time in over ten years during her wedding was poor timing. Maybe, just maybe, she should have called Monica before the event to catch up. They could have their awkward conversation away from an audience in a much more controlled environment. There would be fewer family members trying to engage her in a conversation about her fake job. If they met up for a coffee, there wouldn't be a photographer interrupting every half-hearted attempt to slip a private word with her cousin before she was ushered off with her new husband to have another picture taken.
Instead, she found herself thrust rather roughly in Monica's path as she just finished having a picture with her friends. Her mum, in her desperation to get the reunion over with, had put a little too much force into the shove. Hermione nearly twisted her ankle on the rain-softened lawn outside the church. The push did put her right in the way of the bride. A second after Hermione recovered her balance, the bride let out a very high scream.
"Hermione? Is that you?"
And Hermione was instantly reminded why she had waited ten years to speak to her cousin.
"Oh my God! Look at you!" Monica's long nails pinched at her arms as she wrenched her over for a sudden hug. Hermione gaped in shock as the bribe clutched her close, getting a mouthful of her veil and hairspray-saturated hair. Before Hermione could recover, Monica propped her back on her heels, blinking as she gazed at Hermione with a huge smile on her face. Finding herself directly in Monica's sights, Hermione had to admit that her cousin was beautiful. Her blonde hair had been artfully arranged in huge, glossy curls, pinned in place with her veil sparkling in the straining sunlight. Her sky-blue eyes were bright with genuine joy, her perfect white teeth beaming.
Monica's eyes then zoned on Hermione's own weak attempt at a smile. She gasped again.
"You had your teeth done! Wow! You look amazing. Oh, Em, Gee… I can't believe it's you, Hermione. I… I'm really touched that you came all this way. I know it's far for your mum and dad, but your work with the Government is so serious and… wow…"
Monica suddenly started to fan her face as her eyes started to dew with tears. She beamed again, clutching at Hermione's arm. Shell-shocked by the reaction, Hermione just ended up patting Monica's hand.
"I… well… family is family, right?" Hermione said feebly, trying her hardest to force the most natural-looking fake smile that she could. Her mum suddenly breezed up to her side, her arm winding around the back of her waist.
"Aunty Miri!" Monica squealed next, going to drag Hermione's mum into her another savage hug.
The reprieve gave Hermione a quick opportunity to glance around and see where Harry had gotten to. Her keen gaze usually spotted Harry in a crowd instantly, but he appeared elusive. She'd spotted him several times, looking painfully awkward as some of Dudley's friends approached him, loudly expressing their surprise at how it was really him. It stung, thinking that he'd left without saying goodbye before she then had to remind herself that they were pretending to be strangers. It would be very weird for him to just walk up to her and say 'goodbye' without introductions first.
She of course had noticed how Harry hadn't been asked to stand in any of the photographs. The Dursleys very pointedly ignored him, their behaviour earning some disapproving looks and whispers. She also noticed how much attention Harry was getting from Monica's friends and work colleagues, some even going so far as to bite their lips as they looked him up and down brazenly. Little did they know that Harry was an expert at ignoring attention, actively going out of his way to avoid it. Though, his attire rather went against all that. He was drawing attention from all guests, hostile and otherwise.
Monica engaged her in conversation again, bringing her attention away from her search for Harry. It followed the same pattern as all the other conversations she had with her various family members. Her answers were automatic.
"Yes, work is going very well, thank you…No, I'm single… Yes, London life is very hectic. The traffic is terrible…Dating opportunities have been few and far between."
Wait, what? Hermione's mind caught up with her mouth. Monica gave her a sympathetic smile, then patted her arm, giving her a ridiculously obvious wink.
"Maybe you'll get lucky tonight," she said with a conspiratorial lean towards her ear. Her eyes then gleamed mischievously. "In fact, you'll be sitting next to a very good catch for the reception later. Harry is our age and single."
Hermione stared at Monica, hoping that she didn't just say what she thought she said. There was just no way…
The Fates were surely laughing their heads off. How on Earth were she and Harry going to act like complete strangers while sitting next to each other ? She should have worked out that there could have been a chance they'd be on the same table as neither of them would be sitting at the top table. She supposed it made sense to jumble up the families and judging from the mischief in Monica's blue eyes, the seating plan had been strategic.
Realising a little too late that Hermione had just been standing there in stumped silence for too long, she hastily threw on a smile.
"Who is Harry?" She asked, doing her utmost to not look at her mother and break her poker face.
"Dudley's cousin. His only cousin," Monica said enthusiastically, then her face crumpled sadly. "You likely noticed, but Dudley has a very small family. Other than his parents, he just has one aunt on his dad's side and his cousin on his mum's. Harry's parents died when he was very young and because Dudley's mum is his only family, she ended up taking care of him. I knew Harry at primary school… same as Dudley… though they both were very different as children. You wouldn't recognise either of them as they are now."
It was the most bizarre experience to have someone describe Harry to her in such a way. Yet somehow, Monica's version of Harry's life story was somehow sadder than what people usually said about him. Without any mention of magic and Voldemort, Harry's story was just that of an orphaned boy.
An abused orphaned boy.
Whether Monica knew about the sort of home life Harry and Dudley both went through, Hermione didn't know. The signs were glaringly obvious and the Dursleys were doing a terrible job at disguising their dislike towards Harry.
"Dudley was an absolute terror when we were kids," Monica continued, clearly just happy to talk and not wait for Hermione to respond. "We were all scared of him and his 'gang'. They used to rampage through the town, vandalising and all sorts. You wouldn't believe that of Dudley now, but he did a lot of growing up at University. That's where we started dating, actually. We just happened to be at the same Uni in Southampton."
"Oh, that's a coincidence," Hermione found herself saying. Monica beamed.
"I know! I was really nervous around him at first - because I remembered what he was like! But it turned out that he just needed to get away from home and discover himself."
"That makes it sound like things were hard at home… if you don't mind me saying," Hermione's mum picked up, sounding genuinely concerned. Monica sighed, a little dramatically, looking over to where Dudley was currently trying to help his obese aunt towards the taxi waiting for her outside the church.
"I think so, but whatever it was like, both Dudley and Harry benefited from moving out. Some parents can be… stifling," Monica said, surprising Hermione with her diplomatic choice of vocabulary. Hermione would have opted for a completely different adjective to describe the Dursleys. A list began to form in her head:
Abhorrent
Repulsive
Detestable
Cruel
Evil
Perhaps the last one was a little strong, but the hate Hermione felt towards those two people was very intense. For anyone to upset Harry to the extent they did…
"Are you alright, Hermione?" Monica asked suddenly. Hermione blinked, rocking back on her heels and nearly impaling them in the lawn. She steadied herself and smiled.
"Yes, fine…"
Her mum thankfully took over then, changing the subject tactfully. Hermione just smiled and nodded when needed. Soon enough, someone else showed up to give Monica their congratulations. They were met with the same squeal and hug as Hermione. Dismissed, Hermione took her mum's arm and eagerly left the lawn before her shoes could cause her an embarrassing tumble.
Before her mum could whisper in her ear, Uncle Rees waved them over to tell them the news that they were starting to head off to the reception venue. Reuniting with her dad who managed to bore the pants off her cousin Adam (judging from the relief on his face when they came to collect him), they split from the group to go back to the car.
"Did I hear Monica correctly?" Her mum said, turning to her sharply once they were out of earshot. "You're sitting next to Harry at the reception?"
Hermione winced and nodded. Her mum then howled, stopping where she doubled over, laughing.
"Mum, stop it," Hermione said behind gritted teeth, grasping her arm and near-marching her to the car. Her dad just watched on, nonplussed.
"You better lay your claim fast, darling," her mum said pointedly when they got to the Mercedes, looking at her over the roof, "that poor boy is going to be eaten alive otherwise. I saw the looks he was getting."
"Yes, I saw them too," Hermione said, her teeth still clenched together as her hand instinctively twitched towards her bag where her wand was. Her dad chuckled as he unlocked the car.
"This is definitely going to be an interesting reception," he said as he grinned his Cheshire cat smile. Hermione rolled her eyes and went to get in the car.
Not before quickly checking her appearance in the window and making sure her hair was still behaving. She didn't want to sit next to Harry with messy hair, after all.
Harry left the church early, unable to stand much more idly lingering and having those girls undress him with their eyes. There was no point of him even being there. One of the 'terms' of his appearance at Dudley's wedding was for him to be absent from family photographs. Harry was far from surprised considering that the only photographs of him as a child were school ones. So he hovered, becoming the recipient of a few attempts at a conversation. He found it hard to focus on small talk when all he could think about was Hermione and that fucking dress.
So maybe Harry rushed off, slipping out of sight so he could disapparate. Maybe he left without saying goodbye - to anyone. He just vanished with a pop. He then caused a minor panic at the reception venue. He was the first to arrive by an hour, not thinking ahead enough to remind himself that muggles can't magically teleport from A to B. He managed to calm down the staff, telling them that he rather hilariously made a mistake and arrived early. It was a dumb excuse, but he didn't resort to a quick confundus and disappearing until he was supposed to show up. Instead, he went for a walk.
The reception was at the club house for The Redfield Golf Club. Only a couple of miles out from Little Whinging, it was a familiar haunt for the Dursleys. Not for Harry, however. The evenings when they would make use of the restaurant were also evenings when Harry was dumped with Mrs Figg. His shiny shoes found a footpath, taking him towards the first hole of the course. There was a scattering of golfers braving the overcast skies. A couple of elderly gents in rather dashing plus fours gave him a curious look. He politely nodded a greeting, not sure where exactly he was heading, just that he was heading somewhere.
Of course, with his luck, he had to be out past the eighth hole when it started to rain. Unable to conjure an impervious charm around muggles, Harry was forced to take his return trip at a jog. Thankfully, he made it back into the club house before the rain turned torrential. He slid into the men's bathroom and employed a sneaky drying charm on his clothes before remedying his hair. Scrutinising himself in the mirror, he adjusted his cuffs and sleeves. He hastily checked that he was alone in the bathroom before cupping his hand in front of his mouth and checking his breath. All fine.
He recognised the sensations he was experiencing - the restlessness, the jittery fidgeting in his extremities, how his clothes felt too hot and too tight and the self-consciousness as he fussed over himself. He was nervous. Not about spending time with his relations or mingling with strangers, but bizarrely he was nervous about being around Hermione. Of all the people at the wedding, she should be the person he was the most comfortable around. Instead, the mere thought of being caught in her gaze again made him stressed. He started to worry about stupid things - like whether or not he put deodorant on or if she thought he looked like he was trying too hard. The suit was ridiculously expensive… and he really didn't have to put on a watch that cost the same as a small house.
Checking said watch, he deemed that it was a socially acceptable time to arrive and so made his way back into the reception. He followed the signs back to The Huntington Parlour that had been set up for the festivities. The bar appeared to be open at least, though he was still the only guest there. He breezed his way over, catching the eye of a bartender.
"Starting early, are we?" The lady joked as she flashed him a coy smile, her gaze taking him all in with one big swoop. Harry let out a thin laugh. He didn't want to 'start early' but what else was he going to do? After all, he had to put on the persona of a reformed delinquent with more money than sense. He ordered a pint of bitter and awkwardly hovered at the bar while the lady wiped down the surfaces, still preparing.
"Are you here for the bride or groom?" She asked him conversationally.
"Er, the groom is my cousin," Harry answered, a little relieved to have someone to talk to even if it was a nosy and flirty bartender.
"You got here fast," she remarked. Harry swallowed a large amount of beer to spare him coming up with another lame excuse. "If you wanted to find your seat early, the plan's on the board over there."
Harry glanced over to where she indicated at the doorway that led into the dining area. He nodded in response.
"I'll stay here - if that's okay. I don't want to look like more of a loner than I already do."
He had no idea why he said that. The bartender propped her elbows on the bar, leaning forwards. He turned, putting his glass on the top as she laughed, tucking a strand of her behind her ear as she looked at him.
"Sure, prop up the bar… ah, and look, you already have company showing up," she said, flicking her chin over towards the entrance. Harry looked up, spotting some of his fellow guests breezing in, holding their Orders of Service over their heads to shield from the rain. "Looks like you made it in time to avoid the rain."
"Maybe that was my plan all along," Harry quipped back, then felt a little uncomfortable. Usually, he liked being friendly with people who didn't know him. It made him feel anonymous and relaxed as a result, feeling no pressure to act a certain way or be a certain person. Yet flirting with pretty women didn't feel as fun and playful as it normally did. He gathered his drink up from the bar, suddenly feeling like he didn't want to prop up the bar at all. "Anyway, I suppose I better mingle. Um, thanks."
Leaving the bar, he made his way over to the doorway where the seating plan had been set up on an easel. He smiled his friendliest smile at the guests as he joined them. They were a middle-aged couple, the wife looking very disgruntled at the state of her hair from the rain while her husband offered her reassurances. He eyed the pint in Harry's hand.
"Not a bad idea, that," he remarked. Harry lifted it in response as he curiously went to see where he was sitting. Obviously, he wasn't at the top table. He thought he found his position at the far table, tucked in the corner, but that lucky sod was a 'Harry. L'.
Harry nearly dropped his drink when he found where he was sitting. He turned sharply from the couple before he swore randomly in a bizarre reaction to the sitting plan. He sipped at his drink, waiting for them to find their seats. When they drifted away, he turned back to just double-check that it wasn't some fault with his contact lenses.
No such luck. Harry. P. was right next to Hermione. Near the front, facing the top table. Harry wanted to throw his pint in the face of whoever decided to put them together. He then reminded himself that neither Dudley nor Monica knew that they knew each other. It was another one of those damned coincidences.
Behind him, more guests were starting to fill in. He moved away from the board, not sure what to do with himself. He hoped he'd have much longer before feigning a first meeting with Hermione, but it appeared fate wanted to force them into using their acting skills sooner rather than later. Harry knew that out of the pair of them, he was a lot better at acting. He had more experience with putting on a mask than she did. Even him with his diplomatic training was going to struggle to keep up the facade while having to engage in polite conversation with her and her family.
"Bollocks," Harry swore under his breath, catching the attention of two girls who had passed him to go to the ladies bathroom. He turned sharply from them, drinking to hide his outburst.
As he grew out of his teens, Harry found himself liking Hermione's mum's company more than that of Molly Weasley. Miranda Granger just treated him like an adult and not a poor orphaned child in desperate need of a meal. She was a great listener as he learned when he met her properly for the first time when he joined Hermione on the mission to retrieve them from Australia. Getting to know her parents properly on that trip was a special moment for him because he truly believed that had his parents survived, they would have been just like them. The Grangers were smart, funny and loving. They loved Hermione ardently, but didn't smother her. Harry found their relationship to be the healthiest he'd witnessed first-hand - and that was something he would keep to himself.
Harry wouldn't just have to act around Hermione, but her parents as well. They were all part of the ruse.
Sighing to himself, Harry decided to make his way over to his seat before Hermione and her parents showed up. It was a smart move as he just caught sight of Aunt Marge bustling through the door on her sticks. He paced into the function room, winding through the tables. He curiously looked around at the decor, all the flowers and balloons appearing so dull in comparison to the splendour of a magical ceremony. There were no fairies in the garlands, no conjured twinkling lights sparkling overhead. Once he found his space, thankfully with his back to the top table (which he suspected was purposeful), he put his glass down next to the card with his name on it. He huffed amusedly at seeing his name printed so innocuously. None of his ridiculous titles were crammed next to it. Marge would keel over if she found out he had the equivalent of a knighthood. His eyes narrowed instinctively as she was led to her seat at the opposite side of the room, looking pointedly away before he provoked any sort of drama just by existing.
He pulled down at his jacket and waistcoat, feeling intensely self-conscious as he felt the stares flickering over him from various directions. Once he saw others taking their seats, he went to do the same. Though just as he did, Dudley and Monica arrived to a smattering of applause. He straightened, looking over as Monica dazzled all in sight with her huge, brilliant white smile. Stepping into view from behind her, avoiding her long train and puffing skirt, were the Grangers.
Harry turned away, but then found himself in the awkward position of hovering at his seat which was facing right in the direction he wanted to avoid. There wasn't much he was left with, other than just leaving the table and coming back, which would look weird. He already had a beer so that took that excuse off the table - plus he'd used the bathroom already. He could see Hermione in the corner of his eye, moving with her parents to the seating plan. Someone then stepped into his field of vision, blocking them from view. Harry blinked, registering in surprise that there were people right in front of him, looking at him… even talking to him.
"Hello, are you at this table as well?" A portly man enquired, giving him a curious scowl. Harry vaguely recognised him and he quickly glanced over to his wife who was blinking up at him rather owlishly.
"Um, yes, just here."
"My Goodness…" The woman said airly, moving around her husband. "You likely don't remember us. We're Piers' parents."
Oh bollocks, Harry thought inwardly as his fake smile planted itself on his face.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't recognise you. It's been, well, a long time," Harry said with a strange laugh that didn't sound like himself.
"We were just saying the other day, weren't we, Lesley? About that visit to the zoo on Dudley's birthday and that python escaped! You were there too, weren't you? Harry, isn't it?"
"Um, yes, and… blimey, you remember that?" Harry burst out, startling himself. He rubbed at the back of his neck. Mr Polkiss made a noncommittal grunt, shuffling away from them so his wife could have full access to Harry. He, meanwhile, went to find his seat. Mrs Polkiss nodded insistently.
"Let him sit down, for Heaven's sake," Mr Polkiss grumbled at his wife, then he muttered under his breath. "I wonder if we can change tables…"
"Of course I remember. That wasn't long before you got into all that trouble… but I'm so glad you got help, dear. It's so good of Petunia to look after you despite all that."
Harry rolled his jaw, his hands prickling at the palms.
Oh yeah, it was really good of her to lie to everyone and make out that I got in trouble with the law for setting things on fire.
"Yeah, I guess so," Harry said, losing the bravado he managed to muster up. Faking his apparent criminal past had amused him when it was around Dudley and his old school friends, but it wasn't remotely funny anymore. Mrs Polkiss let out a sigh, patting him on the hands that were suddenly tightly gripping the back of his chair. She went to join her husband who was shooting him suspicious scowls.
The exchange had made him momentarily forget about Hermione until he was looking up and finding her brown eyes surveying him. His breath rolled out of him, a wash of reassurance rushing over him at her presence. As their eyes met across the room, Hermione's companion noticed. It wasn't either of her parents, but her cousin, the bride.
Monica Dursley gasped excitedly, suddenly grasping Hermione by the elbow. With her other hand, she seized the front of her dress so she could half-drag Hermione over to where Harry was standing, stumped at her reaction. She pulled Hermione around behind where the Polkisses had just settled.
"You would have got talking eventually, I'm sure, but allow me to break the ice for you," Monica nattered breathlessly as she brought Hermione over, exercising some impressive strength in her determination to deliver her cousin. Hermione steadied herself once she was released, stilling as she slowly brought her hand up to the back of her head where her golden brown curls were artfully pinned up under a pink decoration set with feathers.
"Hermione, this is Harry…"
Harry could feel her magic tingling in the air around her in an aura. Only a few witches and wizards were powerful enough to exude their magic. Hermione's power was formidable, a force to be reckoned with, but at present, it was like a warm breeze coming through an open window, gently caressing his skin.
"Harry, I'd like you to meet my cousin, Hermione," Monica's voice cut through his daze, making him ping back into the current moment like an elastic band. He blinked, moving from the chair to face them both, easing his tensed muscles. The Polkisses were a faint memory as he gazed at Hermione.
"Hey," Harry said.
Hermione immediately bit her lip, trying not to laugh at his lame greeting. She cleared her throat, recovering.
"Hi," she said in a strangely shy voice that was so unlike Hermione and yet was entirely her. Monica's eyes were hungrily zipping between them, wide with interest.
"Hermione's come all the way from Gloucester with her parents to be here. Isn't that lovely? We haven't seen each other since… well…"
"Since your mum and dad's silver wedding anniversary," Hermione finished for her cousin.
This is so weird, Harry thought to himself. Monica gasped, patting Hermione on the arm.
"That's right! Well, I thought it would be nice for you to sit with someone our age and… well… because you don't really know anyone else here and those that you do know-." Monica winced. Harry turned his head, looking directly at Monica, very conscious of the Polkisses listening to every word. His smile turned sharp as he finished Monica's sentence for her as well.
"Used to beat me up in school?"
"Uh, yes, that," Monica said, a flush managing to fight through the layer of makeup on her face. "Anyway, I'll… leave you to it."
Clearly very pleased with herself, Monica scrambled away in a rustle of skirts and frills. Harry brought his gaze back to Hermione, heat rushing up to his collar where his shirt was definitely too tight. He had a weird urge to rip off his tie and loosen his collar. He didn't, his hands instead moving of their own accord as he mutely went to pull out the chair next to his where Hermione's name was set at the place beside him.
Hermione's eyes hadn't left his face. He wasn't even sure if she had blinked. He swallowed, nervous, as he awkwardly moved so she could sit down. They didn't speak, communicating only with their eyes as she brushed past him. Her arm connected with his and his gaze then dropped from her face to her shoulder… her bare shoulder. Her sleeves were off, resting on her arms, leaving the expanse of her shoulders and collarbones unburdened. His attention ran over to the necklace at her throat, a sparkling flower resting in the dip between her collarbones. Before his wandering gaze grew more slovenly, he forced it back up to her face.
She wasn't looking at his face anymore either. Her eyes snapped right back up to his face, blushing as she quickly moved to sit down. Harry was left, stunned.
Was Hermione really just looking at my arse?
A pair of brown eyes matching Hermione's appeared in his view. Dr Granger grinned at him in recognition before schooling his expression, clearing his throat as he moved to their table, carrying a glass of something clear and fizzing. Judging from the ice and lemon, Harry gathered it was a gin and tonic. Hermione's dad nodded his greeting over to the Polkisses before looking for his seat one away from Hermione.
"Hello! Awful weather, isn't it? Such a shame as this looks like a splendid course!" He turned and gushed over at Mr Polkiss as he went to take his seat next to him. While Dr Granger artfully engaged the other man in small talk, Harry managed to re-engage his brain and take his own seat. As he did, he immediately found Hermione watching him as she put her handbag on the table. He had to say something, do something to make things look less weird.
"Did you-?"
"Where are-?"
They both spoke at the same time, breaking off their questions. It was Harry's turn to chew on his lip to stop himself from laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. There they both were, the crowning achievement of magical youth in Britain, and they were fumbling around each other like pubescent teens. Harry brought his hand up to his mouth, hiding his smile before he politely gestured at her.
"No, after you," he said, catching Mrs Polkiss's eye across the table. She gave him an encouraging thumbs-up.
"Did you drive from the church?" Hermione asked him. Harry stared at her, raising his brow. She then grimaced as she realised what she had just done.
"Taxi," Harry said quickly, "I, um, got a taxi."
"Oh," Hermione tapped the table with her fingernails, glancing over to the empty seat at her side, before looking back over to Harry. "What were you going to ask me, sorry?"
"Er…" Harry couldn't remember. He laughed. "It slipped my mind."
"Is that your first one?" Hermione asked, eyes flicking towards his pint glass.
"Unfortunately."
"Huh, having that much fun then, are you?" She asked, a too familiar glint entering her gaze. "Are you not a fan of family occasions?"
"Not usually, no," Harry said honestly, "how about you?"
Hermione sucked at her teeth a little before answering, narrowing her eyes at him in a way he couldn't quite fathom.
"That's quite personal to ask a stranger."
"Well, you asked me first," Harry said with a laugh, causing Hermione's eyes to widen in alarm. "I don't mind," he quickly added. Glancing across the table, he could see they still had an audience. "It was pretty obvious during the service that things on our side are a bit… complicated. Families are like that though. For some people, it's a blessing, but for others…"
"A curse," Hermione whispered, her eyes still wide as she looked at him in concern. "I'm sorry you feel that way."
"Ah, it's alright. You can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends, right?"
As he said as much, Hermione's mum joined them.
"What is that about 'choosing family'?" Miranda Granger said as she smiled her greetings, pulling out her chair. Hermione let out a groan, touching her forehead before controlling herself. Harry took the interruption to seize his beer and gulp down a bit more than what would be socially acceptable.
The remaining guests for their table joined them, providing a much needed distraction for Harry as those on his other side settled in their seats. To his great relief, they weren't parents of his former bullies but some family friends of Monica's along with. The last man to join their table seemed familiar to Harry, but he couldn't place why. He was in his eighties at least but seemed perfectly spry, smiling around the table as he joined them. Harry tilted his head to the side as he studied the man, trying to sift through memories of Privet Drive to attempt to place him.
"I suppose we should introduce ourselves," Mrs Granger announced once she settled herself down, smiling broadly, "I'm Miranda and the beautiful bride is my niece… this is my husband, Richard, and my daughter, Hermione."
"Lovely to meet you!" Mrs Polkiss immediately gushed. "And doesn't Monica look wonderful! We have known her since she was a little girl… Piers, the best man, is our son. They were all in the same school." She then looked across the table at Harry. "Along with Harry."
And the attention was back on him again. Harry lifted a hand in a wave. He could feel Hermione's closeness pulsing at his side, urging him to look at her, but he kept his focus.
"Um, yeah, I'm Harry. I… er… I'm Dudley's cousin."
"The mother and father of the groom raised Harry along with their son, taking him in their home after his parents died," Mrs Polkiss said the moment Harry went silent, leaning forwards. "They are such good people and close friends of ours."
Harry turned his face away, tilting his gaze upwards to the ceiling. He pulled his hands down from the table, clenching them into fists on his lap. Thankfully, she didn't embellish on his introduction. He swallowed tightly, turning his attention politely to the family friends at his right as they introduced themselves. He barely picked up their names.
He could hear Hermione's mum whispering something, but he couldn't discern what it was. He caught the fierceness in her hushed tone at least. Mrs Polkiss's uncaring introduction of him hadn't won her any favours with either of the Grangers. He could feel Hermione's magic changing from where it was a pleasant warmth to a hot frazzle of anger.
As the other guests dispensed with their small talk, waiting for the food to be served, gentle fingers brushed over the back of Harry's clenched fist. He didn't react, sensing instinctively that Hermione was due to comfort him. Sure enough, her fingers eased his fist open, pushing her fingers between his. Harry let out a breath, not looking over at her, as he lowered his head back to listen to the conversations going on around him.
He might be in the presence of people in his past who never once cared about him. In that very room, there were adults who he once feared - for good reason. Even those who were his age who had tormented him while they were all children together, never reprimanded for their behaviour as they hurt him. The damage had been done. He knew it was the case. Harry wasn't ignorant of the painful truth that he was a victim of child abuse.
However, there was a very strong difference between back then and that present moment. It wasn't just that he was older and stronger. It wasn't that he could fight back and win against his abusers. It was all in the hand that clutched his while he sat quietly, piecing himself back together.
He wasn't alone.
Hermione received the unspoken signal that Harry's magic gave her after the vile couple spoke of Harry's relatives as if they were saints for raising Harry the way they did. Harry's magic flared, a wild cry, one of distress. He was hurting. Badly.
Taking his hand had soothed him, something that set Hermione's heart racing. She became very conscious on him next to her then, feeling his magic was one thing, but touching him even smelling him was setting her skin aflame. She hadn't noticed it while they had been apart, but he was wearing cologne. He rarely wore it usually as wizards didn't wear scents, but he was there as a muggle, just as she was. He smelled incredible and it made her all the more aware of just how attractive he was.
Harry excused himself when the servers came out to clear their dessert dishes. Their subtle, private discourse that they maintained throughout the meal had gone unnoticed by those sitting with them without the magic to sense theirs. After he managed to mutter to the general assembly a hasty 'if you will excuse me', Hermione let out a breath, reaching forwards to snatch the glass of champagne she'd been given for the toasts and downed what was left in one quick chase. It was a mistake as the bubbles immediately made her nose sting and her eyes water. As they did, she missed where Harry went and what direction he had fled to. She had of course noticed that he barely touched any of the courses that came out, drinking heavily instead. He was relying on courage of the Dutch sort as well as his own. It appeared his tremendous strength of will simply wasn't enough for him while surrounded by his past abusers.
Hermione then felt Harry's magic like a siren's call. She turned, looking over her shoulder to where the doors of the room opened out onto a terrace. The sun had finally won its battle, shining past the dense clouds that had finished releasing their burdens on the wedding goers below. The paving stones outside were shining where they were wet.
"I'm just going to get some air," Hermione said to her mum as she rose to get out of her seat. Her excuse set off a chain reaction of smiles and smirks. The biggest smile came from her mum who obviously knew that she was going after Harry. While the others at the table likely just assumed that she was interested in the young, eligible gentleman at her side, her mum knew that she was pursuing her best friend who needed her.
Others in the room were making use of the break in proceedings to use the venue's facilities - namely the bar. She ignored the curious looks she stirred from the guests of the young, male variety, only interested in one single man currently present. As she gleaned from his magic calling to her, he was outside at the terrace. A couple were a few yards away from him, smoking. Harry had found a spot by a table, his head twitching over in her direction as he sensed her arrive.
Her shoes clattered on the stones as she made her way towards him. Unthinking, she didn't pay attention to how the floor was slippery from the rain. Not used to wearing high-heels, her foot slipped when she wasn't far from Harry. He noticed at once, moving unnaturally fast as he caught her around the waist before she lost her balance. The smell of his cologne was like spice in her nostrils as he leaned over her, warm and solid. His smile was electrifying as he helped her to stand straight.
"It's slippery out here," Harry said helpfully, the amusement dancing in his brilliant green eyes. Hermione squashed down her immediate response of swatting him for his teasing. Instead, she let out a strange laugh that was something she'd expect from Lavender Brown, tittering and oddly high-pitched.
"Yes, it is," she said, her face flushing in reaction to her laugh. What was that? "Thank you for the save."
"You're welcome," he said as he released her. As he did, Hermione very strongly didn't want him to let her go. "So, um, you know our rule of no-," Harry glanced over to the smokers on his left and leaned closer to her, "-magic? I might have used a drying charm earlier."
"And you Apparated."
"That too," Harry smiled again, "and I may have put up a privacy charm… or two."
"Well, technically you haven't broken any laws," Hermione pointed out to him, "your family and mine are 'within the know' so to speak."
Harry snorted softly, looking over to the door that led back into the suit. A strange look softened his gaze while his smile faded.
"Thank you for earlier," he said quietly, peering over at her with an odd shyness, "I needed it."
"I know," she murmured back. Harry's eyes performed a sweep around her face, then to her hair. His smile returned as he looked at her properly.
"I finally have the chance to tell you that you're stunning today, Hermione. You always are, of course, but… you are beautiful as a witch and as a muggle."
His compliment made her heart feel like it was doing all sorts of gymnastics. It was a grown-up, mature compliment that was, most importantly, very genuine. Blood rushed up to her face, making her blush. It was a real, romantic blush as well, fresh from the novels. Nothing Ron had ever said to her made her heart flutter so wildly.
Oh dear…
Hermione stared into Harry's eyes. She wouldn't say, in hindsight, that she experienced a 'light bulb' moment. Instead, it was rather like a 'flood light' moment or a 'lumos maxima' moment. Very suddenly, she could see Harry illuminated before her. In his fine suit with his neat, tamed hair, his gorgeous eyes and that scent… he was just simply divine and he was right there, calling her beautiful and meaning it.
"I don't think I need to tell you that you look incredible yourself," she said, her voice feeling tight and strangled all of a sudden. "You know you have half the women here swooning over you."
Harry's smile cut upwards into his cheek, eyes gleaming with that damned mischievous, playful look. His flirtatious look.
"Only half?" He questioned.
"Fine… five eighths."
"Oddly precise, but I'll take your word for it. I suppose we have to factor in the elderly and my relations… and the wives."
"I don't know. I'm pretty certain I caught some of the married women ogling you."
"Just as long as it's not the recently married woman here today, I suppose I'll not be getting into any fights," Harry said with his wicked grin. "Though it does seem like Monica's more obsessed with putting me together with you than she is about checking me out."
Hermione's flush lit up again. "I know. I suppose it works from her perspective - two single, heterosexual people of the opposite sex who are close in age. As a match-maker, she's not got it wrong."
"Just a shame about my troubled past, eh?" Harry said with the ghost of a wink. Though he meant it playfully, she could see the tension in his jaw the second after his eye twitched. He did well to hide the pain, but she knew him better than anyone. She sighed out her nose, watching him as he looked away, lifting his gaze upwards to the sky. As he did, the struggling sun caught his irises in a way that made them almost light up, lighter and brighter than before. She found herself staring into them, seeing each sinew of the delicate muscle that came together to form such natural beauty. The pupils then met hers and, as they did, Hermione fully appreciated why eyes were referred to windows to the soul.
"Any woman would be lucky to have you," she found herself saying, "or man… whoever it is, they'd be… the luckiest person in the world."
It was Harry's turn to flush. She could see his tanned cheeks darkening, eyes widening in surprise at her words. His lips then parted, catching her attention away from the clear green to soft pink. She'd never looked at his mouth with real, genuine interest before then. Never before had she imagined what it would be like to kiss them. Inhaling the scent of his cologne, she very much was imagining how soft they would feel against hers.
"Hermione…" He breathed out her name, his lips coming together as he formed the sounds. She looked up into his eyes again and they beheld an intensity that she'd never seen up close. She had his complete, undivided attention. For that moment, she was all that there was in the world, the primary constant, and she felt it.
How had she been so blind?
No, she hadn't been blind. She'd been prevented from seeing, forced behind a wall that had been built between them over the years. They'd been doing it together, throughout their school days and then into their adult years. Brick by brick, they'd been walling up their true feelings, their attractions and their desires. The barrier stopped them ever going too far, keeping them within the safe realms of a platonic friendship.
The wall was crumbling. With each and every breath, she felt its foundations coming undone.
She moved, leaning into his closeness. Harry did the same, breathing heavily as he ducked his head towards her, casting her face in shadow as he moved out of the sun. She could feel his breath on her face, his eyes wide as he captured every reaction, every movement she made.
"Hey, it's nearly time for the first dance, people!" A loud, brash voice clanged through the still moment like a cymbal. Both of them pulled back before they could be caught together. Hermione settled back on her heels, unaware that she'd rising onto her toes to get close to Harry.
To kiss him.
They had nearly kissed.
"I… should get a drink," Harry mumbled. "See you inside."
Just like that, leaving her in the wake of his wondrous scent and magic, Harry left her reeling within the force of her epiphany. She watched him leaving, rubbing furiously at the back of his neck. She could see how flushed he was… and how flustered.
Because he had leaned in too.
Hermione sighed. She really needed to have a chat with her mother.