Chapter Text
When I opened the door, she was sitting at her desk like always, her reading glasses perched on her nose, eyes fixed intently upon the parchment she was writing on and her lips pursed. Her hair, which had been untameable for years, had changed significantly. It was still a chocolate-brown but looked almost golden on certain days, it had become a less-bushy, more-wavy with the lower ends still curling around her neck in a very appealing manner. It was now tied in a sloppy bun, a few tendrils escaping now and then, and she had to tuck them behind her ear whenever they fell on her face. I wished I could keep watching her until the end of time, but decided otherwise.
"Ahem," I cleared my throat, effectively catching her attention. She lifted her head and beamed at me, her eyes gleaming brightly. "Harry!" she cried gleefully, "What brings you here?"
I smiled at her and approached her table. "I just had this sudden urge to surprise my favourite person on the planet. So here I am. May I sit down?"
She rolled her eyes and said, "No, you may not. Keep standing."
I gasped in mock hurt and said, touching my heart, "Wow, Hermione, that was rude."
"Sit down, you prat," she laughed, putting her quill down. "How was your date with Tracey?"
I shrugged and said in a deadpan voice, "It ended before it properly began. Tracey was just another one of those stupid fangirls."
"What did she do?" she asked, taking her glasses off and leaning towards me.
"Why are you so interested?" I asked, smirking.
"Harry, I do want to keep myself up-to-date about my best friend's love life."
"Why don't you ask Ron?"
"He's married, that's why. I know that his wife is Amelie and that their baby is due in June."
"Why do you always have to be correct?"
I'd like to think I didn't imagine the slight blush that appeared on her cheeks following this question. She smiled and said, "Thank you, but I'm not always correct. Anyways, tell me about Tracey."
I groaned, "Damn, I thought I could get you off that subject. Well, Tracey appeared on my doorstep last evening, wearing an almost non-existent little dress. Then she kept talking about how she was fully prepared to stay the night with me; she even tried to get me to ask she was wearing under that dress. And when I told her flatly that we wouldn't be doing anything together that night, she just blew up. She began to talk about how hundreds of boys wanted exactly what I'd refused, and that I was an obnoxious, arrogant man."
Hermione giggled and said, "You've never been very good with the girls, Harry, honestly."
"I know," I muttered. That's because I'm in bloody love with you!
"D'you want to eat dinner at the new restaurant near The Leaky Cauldron tonight? We could watch a movie, too."
She bit her lip and said, "Oh, Harry, I'd love to, but I'm sorry. I can't. I' ve—I've got a date with Anthony tonight."
"What?" I almost shouted.
She flinched slightly and replied, "I'm sorry. I've got a date with Anthony."
"Anthony?"
"Yes. Anthony Goldstein – he was in our year, in Ravenclaw, remember? He works in International Magical Cooperation. He asked me out last Friday."
I tried to control my anger but it was getting really difficult. "I remember him. So you accepted?"
"Yes, Harry."
"Why?"
Her eyes, which were fixed on the ground, shot back up to meet his. "What do you mean?"
"Why did you accept a date request from that prat?"
"He's not a prat, he was very sweet."
"Oh, so you decided to say yes without giving a second thought that your best friend might have made other plans?"
"How was I to know you'd made plans?" she glared at me.
"You should have asked me before you said yes to him. I ask you every time I have a new date."
"You're clueless about girls, and besides, I never told you that you're compelled to ask me for opinion. And I can date anyone I like without asking you. You're being completely stupid."
"That's right, call me stupid. When you're going to date that—that moron."
Hermione looked almost on the verge of tears. "Why are you being like this?"
"Oh, I don't know. You're so clever, you should have figured out the reason by now," I said coldly.
She wiped her eyes angrily. "What's gotten into you?", she asked, coming closer to me and taking my face in her hands. I looked into her eyes and felt ashamed at my behaviour. All I wanted to do at that moment was to kiss her and make her forget about her date. But then, I remembered the face of the stupid Goldstein and said, "Forget it. I'm going home. You're probably getting late for your date."
My harsh manner made her remove her hands from my face. "Well then," she said coolly, looking away from me, "I'll see you around, Harry."
I missed her.
So. Damn. Much.
It had been twelve days since our quarrel over that idiot Goldstein and I hadn't seen her since. I supposed she'd told her secretary not to let me into her office, because every time I tried, Sarah would say, "Madam Granger hasn't arrived yet" or "Madam Granger is busy" or "Madam Granger isn't in her office right now" or something of that kind.
I had tried visiting her flat, too, but she'd put up wards against me. Currently, I sat brooding at my desk, fiddling with one of the lilies (her favourite flowers) that I'd bought for her. I still didn't know how to give them to her. The reason I'd been so mean that day was because I'd planned to confess my feelings for her that evening. But, of course, someone had to sweep her off her feet before I could. I clenched my teeth – I wanted to hex Anthony Goldstein into a million pieces. Every time I saw him lately, he'd have a smug little smile on his face, and walk with a swagger as though he'd just won a thousand Galleons.
Fifteen days. Fifteen days since I'd seen her. I wanted to stay home and cry, which was very unlikely of myself.
However, I was determined. I'd talk with her today and even Lord Voldemort himself couldn't stop me from doing so.
I picked up the bouquet of fresh tiger lilies I'd bought this morning and Disillusioned it. I went to Hermione's office, knocked on the door and saw Sarah's smiling face. It turned into a frown the moment she saw me.
"Auror Potter, I must tell you –"
"Sarah," I said sternly, "I have to meet Madam Granger today. It's urgent. I'm going to have to hex you if you don't let me in."
Sarah looked frightened at this. "Uhm," she said, "OK, you may come in, Sir."
I smiled at her, "Thank you, Sarah."
The door to Hermione's main chamber was ajar, but I still knocked. "Come in," she said without looking. I quietly removed the Disillusionment Charm from the flowers and approaching her desk, laid it before her.
Hermione looked up. Her eyebrows rose once before she returned to her work.
"Hermione, I'm sorry."
No response.
"Please, Hermione, I'm really sorry. I behaved like a complete twit that night. It's been fifteen days, Hermione, we've never been apart for so long. I regretted fighting with you the moment you left. I can't take it anymore, Hermione. I admit I am the world's biggest git, and I do not deserve to have you as my best friend, but please, I beg you, talk to me."
Hermione looked up at me and put her quill down, rubbing her nose. "I brought you these flowers. Thought they'd cheer you up," I stated.
"Come here," she ordered, pointing to her side of the desk. I did as I was told.
When I was beside her, she stood up and before I knew it, threw herself at me and began sobbing into my shoulder. I was taken aback, but quite pleased that she was hugging me. I rubbed her back and whispered, "I missed you" into her hair. She sniffed and replied, "I missed you too, Harry, more than you know; and I'm sorry, too."
Smiling to myself, I kissed her forehead. We pulled apart after a while, but our arms were still wrapped around each other.
"Friends again?" I asked.
"Of course, Harry," she chuckled, rolling her eyes.
"So, how was your date?"
"Oh, that," she said, tugging on her hair, "it was pretty good until Anthony said he wanted me to stop being friends with you, or he'd not date me anymore."
"I was right about him being a prat, then. What did you say?"
"Honestly, what do you think I said? I chose you, obviously and dumped him then and there, but not before throwing a few choice swear words at him."
My eyes widened. "Hermione Granger swears?"
She rolled her eyes again and smacked me lightly on the chest. "You and Ron have a bad influence on me."
"But you still love us, right?"
"Of course," she replied softly, "no matter who I date or marry, you two will always be the most important men in my life."
My heart plummeted at the thought of her marrying or even dating, someone other than me, but I smiled nevertheless at her statement and blushed when she kissed my cheek.
"I should set you up on a blind date," Hermione suggested one Sunday morning as we sat eating Florean Fortesque's best Deluxe Chocolate Sundae outside his shop.
"Why?" I asked, curious.
"Well, you could do with some dating, I suppose. You've been single ever since that incident with Tracey. And besides, there's this girl I know who's madly in love with you and she –"
I choked on my sundae. "In love with me?" I ask, "Do I know her?"
"Most definitely," she said, examining a cherry in her ice-cream. "I know for a fact that she's loved you ever since your last year at Hogwarts."
"She was in our year?" I asked, flabbergasted. "Which House was she in?"
Hermione blushed, to my surprise. "She's told me not tell you because you'd figure it out if I did."
"Is it Lavender? Parvati?" I asked eagerly.
"No."
"Then Hannah Abbott?"
"Nope."
"Susan Bones? Padma Patil? Luna? Oh, Luna's a year younger than us."
Hermione giggled and said, "It's neither Susan nor Padma nor Luna."
I looked horrified and said, "Don't tell me it's some Slytherin girl?"
"She's not a Slytherin, I assure you."
"Well, set us up then. Ask her if she's free tomorrow evening." I would have preferred not dating anyone, but then I realised Hermione did not seem to show any kind of romantic interest in me, so I needed to start moving on. What was the harm in trying, anyway?
"She told me she's free any time you are."
"Where are we meeting?"
"I decided The Silver Hippogriff—you know, Padma's new restaurant—would be a great place to meet. I've already asked her if it's OK with her, and she said yes."
"Awesome!" I said, smiling at Hermione, who smiled back.
I checked my reflection on the mirror. I looked rather fine, I concluded, in my blue shirt and jeans. It was not too formal, and hence perfect for a first date. I wondered who she was.
At seven o'clock sharp, I was about to enter The Silver Hippogriff when I saw a familiar-looking person standing at the door. She was looking away from me, so I couldn't see her, but she was wearing a white sleeveless top and black jeans, her brown hair (it looked very familiar to me) tied up in a messy ponytail. Looking more closely, I realised who it was. It was Hermione!
I walked over to her. When she saw me, she smiled and said, "It's not polite for the man to arrive later than the woman, Harry."
I was confused. "Where's that girl?" I asked.
"Which girl?"
"The one I was supposed to be meeting today. My date?"
Hermione looked right into my eyes and said, "She's standing right in front of you, Harry."
Did she mean…? No, it could never be. "I don't understand," I said.
She came closer to me and whispered, "Are you really that blind, Harry?"
Our faces were only inches apart from one another. "I still don't understand," I said, though I was starting to comprehend what she was trying to say.
We were staring intently into one another's eyes. My eyes drifted to her lips, and back to her brown ones. She closed them, and so did I, then all of a sudden, her lips brushed against mine. It was a soft, feather-light, barely-there touch, but it left my spine tingling.
"Do you understand now?" she said, still in a whisper. I smiled and shook my head. "No, I don't."
She laughed, smacking her arm and said, "Idiot."
I put my arms around her waist and pulled her to me. The atmosphere turned serious again. "Hermione, there's something I need to tell you and I think this is the perfect moment."
"What is it?" she asked.
"You told me about that girl who's madly in love with me, tell her that I'm madly in love with her, too."
Her eyes filled with tears and she beamed at me, putting her arms around my neck.
I moved my face closer to hers until our lips were a hair's breadth apart. "May I kiss her?"
"Just do it already," she whispered, and our lips met in the most wonderful, breathtaking, amazing kiss that sent my heart into a frenzy. We remained standing there in front of the restaurant, arms wrapped tight around each other, kissing for what seemed like aeons. My fingers traced tiny circles on her waist, hers played languidly with my hair. When we finally pulled apart, she had a giddy grin on her beautiful face, a dazed look in her eyes, her cheeks flushed and her hair even messier. I sure was sure I didn't look any better, but I was smiling like a fool as I stared at her.
We kissed again, and eventually, we remembered that we did have a date together. We ordered spaghetti and meatballs, and some wine. As the waiter took our order and went away, Hermione squeezed my hand and whispered, "I love you" in my ears. I blushed and kissed her temple before saying, "I love you too."