The day was overcast but pleasant as Hermione and Frank walked through the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, their children in tow. Harry was clinging to her hand, babbling excitedly about something he'd seen in a shop window, while Neville was on Frank's hip, his little eyes wide with curiosity. It was a rare moment of normalcy, and Hermione found herself savoring it despite the strange undercurrent of tension she couldn't quite shake.
They had decided to take the boys shopping, hoping to get them some new clothes since both Harry and Neville seemed to be growing out of theirs at an alarming rate. Hermione had found herself enjoying these small outings with Frank, though she was careful to keep her feelings in check. The connection between them was undeniable, but she was determined not to let it lead to complications.
They wandered through the shops, picking out small outfits for the boys. Hermione found herself gravitating towards a little blue jumper that she knew would look adorable on Neville, while Frank was eyeing a green shirt with a tiny lion on the front that seemed perfect for Harry. Without thinking, they each picked up the outfits and handed them to each other, their hands brushing briefly.
"Here," Frank said, handing her the shirt for Harry. "I think he'd like this."
Hermione smiled and handed him the jumper in return. "And Neville would look sweet in this."
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. There was something in the way Frank looked at her, something unspoken and heavy with meaning, but before she could dwell on it, Harry tugged on her hand, pulling her back to reality.
"Nymmy! Oy!" Harry exclaimed, his voice full of excitement.
Hermione laughed and nodded, letting him lead her towards the toy shop. They spent the next hour browsing, the children running ahead while Hermione and Frank followed at a slower pace, their conversation easy and light.
It wasn't until they entered a small boutique that things began to shift again. Hermione had been browsing through the racks, picking out clothes for Harry, when her eyes landed on a dress hanging on the far wall. It was beautiful—simple, elegant, and in a deep shade of blue that she loved. For a moment, she imagined herself wearing it, imagined what it would feel like to slip it on and twirl in front of a mirror.
But then she saw the price tag.
Her heart sank, and she quickly moved away from the dress, reminding herself that she didn't need it. There were more important things to spend money on, like Harry's needs and the work she was doing.
Frank, however, had noticed her pause by the dress. He approached her, his brows furrowed in concern. "Why don't you try it on?" he suggested.
Hermione shook her head, waving off the idea with a forced smile. "No, thanks. I don't want to buy it."
"You don't have to buy it," Frank said, his voice gentle but insistent. "Just try it. We've got time before we need to head back to the manor."
She hesitated, glancing back at the dress. There was a part of her that wanted to do it, that wanted to indulge in this small, frivolous moment. But there was another part of her, the part that had learned to be practical and cautious, that resisted. Still, something in Frank's gaze, something supportive and encouraging, made her relent.
"Alright," she said, sighing softly. "I'll try it on."
Frank smiled, a warm, genuine expression that made her heart skip a beat. She took the dress from the rack and headed to the dressing room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The small space felt intimate, and as she slipped the dress on, she couldn't help but think of Frank waiting just outside. The thought of him seeing her in this dress made her pulse quicken.
As she looked at herself in the mirror, her mind began to wander. She imagined Frank stepping into the dressing room, his hands brushing against her skin as he slowly unzipped the dress. She pictured his fingers trailing down her back, the heat of his body pressed against hers…
"Stop it," she muttered to herself, shaking her head as if to dispel the images.
But the thoughts lingered, making it harder for her to focus. When Frank called out to her again, his voice teasing and familiar, she felt a mix of anticipation and nerves.
"Come on, Hermione, let's see it. You said we're friends, right?"
Friends. The word echoed in her mind, reminding her of the boundaries she had set for herself. But as she stood there, wearing the dress and feeling the way it clung to her body, those boundaries felt fragile.
She opened the door, stepping out into the light of the shop. Frank had been smiling, but the moment his eyes landed on her, that smile vanished. His expression shifted, becoming unreadable, and for a moment, Hermione felt completely exposed.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.
Frank blinked, swallowing hard as if he were trying to find the right words. He shook his head, a small, almost imperceptible movement. "Nothing," he murmured, but the intensity in his gaze said otherwise.
Feeling a sudden rush of awkwardness, Hermione forced a laugh and retreated back into the dressing room. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she quickly changed out of the dress, leaving it behind without a second glance. When she stepped out, Frank was waiting for her, his expression now carefully neutral.
"I need to use the loo," he said abruptly, his voice tight. "Wait for me outside?"
Hermione nodded, feeling a strange sense of disappointment. "Sure."
She grabbed her bags and left the shop, standing outside in the cool air as she tried to steady her thoughts. A few minutes later, Frank emerged, holding a bag of his own, and they walked back to the manor in silence.
Later, back at the manor, the tension between them had dissipated, replaced by the simple joy of watching their children play. Hermione had dressed Harry and Neville in their new outfits, and they giggled and twirled around the room, their laughter infectious. Hermione snapped pictures, her heart full as she captured the moment.
For a while, everything felt easy again. She and Frank laughed along with the boys, watching them pose and make silly faces. But every now and then, when she glanced at Frank, she felt that familiar spark, that chemistry that they both seemed determined to ignore.
And as much as she tried to push it aside, Hermione couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if she had let him into that dressing room, if she had let herself feel what she so desperately wanted to forget.