Chapter Text
Hermione really didn't know what to expect as she sipped on her butterbeer, waiting for her date.
It'd all been a bit of a surprise really. Potter came stumbling into the library the week prior with his two loud and obnoxious friends - Weasley and Brown - hanging at the entrance giggling. He'd come to sit across from Hermione and, surprisingly politely, waited for her to finish the Arithmancy chart she was working through. OWL year was proving to be tougher than Hermione expected, and this chart was the current bane of her existence. Well, other than people distracting her.
"Can I help you?" Hermione had eventually asked, putting aside her quill and parchment and giving Potter her full attention.
He seemed momentarily startled by Hermione's stare, but soldiered on, "Yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me next Hogsmeade weekend?" he said bluntly.
"Is this a joke?" Hermione said bluntly back, not wasting any time pondering on the absurdity of his request.
"What?" Potter seemed genuinely stung, "No. No, I'd really like it if you went on a date with me. No tricks!" He hastily added, hands out to indicate the lack of malice in his intent, Hermione thought.
She continued to stare at him.
They'd hardly had any previous interaction prior to this one. Other than the rare one or two times they were in the same group for an inter-house project, or when Potter was serving a detention with his mother whilst Hermione stayed after class to talk to Professor Potter about the latest issue of Channelling Charms Magazine, they were a part of two very different worlds. If Hermione was studying in the library, Potter was at Quidditch practice. If Hermione was reading her favourite books in the Ravenclaw common room, Potter was playing a Quidditch match. If Hermione was writing countless letters to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures about house-elf rights, Potter was playing Quidditch.
She assumed so, anyway. She didn't really pay all that much attention to him and his ventures, but he was on the Gryffindor Quidditch team so he must play Quidditch a lot, Hermione reasoned.
Outside of that, though, everything she had heard about him - mainly from her prefect colleague Neville Longbottom in Gryffindor - told a story of someone kind and thoughtful, if sometimes a little on the arrogant side; someone who worked hard to prove himself against the reputation of his parents, but didn't take things too seriously either.
Hermione was also a huge fan of his mother, one of the most amazing witches she had had the pleasure to meet.
She thought he might be interesting to talk to at the very least, so a date with him wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
"A date sounds good, Potter. Twelve o'clock at the Three Broomsticks, if that works for you?" She gave him a polite smile.
"Brilliant, yes, it does." He grinned. "Call me Harry, though, please. All this calling people by their surnames thing is just weird, honestly."
He sort of had a point, but first names were much more personal and Hermione just wasn't into that all that much. She was 'Granger' to everyone and they were whatever their surnames were to her.
"Hermione," she replied, despite that. Going on a date with him seemed a good enough reason to be on a first name basis.
"See you around, Hermione," Harry said before leaving her be to continue her extra-credit work for Professor Vector.
A moment later she heard a 'whoop' and cheerful laughter from outside the library.
Sat in the Three Broomsticks, Hermione glanced at her watch.
Five past twelve. Honestly, what did she expect? Of course he was just playing a-
"Hey, sorry I'm late," Harry panted as he slid into the seat across from her, "One of the Thestrals got their hoof stuck in the snow on the way down here. I had to help it out."
He could see Thestrals. That was interesting, though Hermione didn't push to question it. It'd be quite rude.
"That's ok," she said, "I bought you a butterbeer but I haven't ordered any food yet."
"Thanks," he said, still catching his breath, "So, uh… ah, here we go."
Madam Rosmerta approached their table and asked for their orders.
"The shepherd's pie, please, Rosmerta," Harry said.
Good choice.
"I'll have the same, please," Hermione added, and Madam Rosmerta headed off.
"Great minds think alike." Harry grinned.
"Though fools seldom differ," Hermione replied tersely, "However, I don't think of myself as a fool, so we must both be great minds."
"Yours is certainly greater than mine," he chuckled. Harry didn't seem intimidated by her intelligence like most, and even appeared to admire it. Hermione smiled, though she rubbed her nose to hide her teeth from sight. She had never liked how they protruded, even if it was only slight.
"In some ways, maybe. In others, you'll have the upper hand. For example, I'm sure you know far more about Quidditch than I do, and I hear that you're particularly adept at Defence Against the Dark Arts."
"And that's where the list stops, though I'm now very proud of myself that I beat you at at least one subject."
Hermione made a noncommittal noise.
"What?" Harry asked.
"I said nothing about you being better than me at Defence. I suggest that you watch your back in case my wand slips," she replied.
"Oh?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "We should duel sometime, then. I'll make it my mission to prove that I'm better."
"We should. It'll be nice to continue my undefeated streak; make my name known amongst the Gryffindors."
Harry laughed. Madam Rosmerta came back with their food.
Discussion from there on was, frankly, a joy for Hermione. Harry happily engaged in all of her ramblings, asking questions and sharing his thoughts if he had any. When Hermione brought up S.P.E.W, Harry mentioned how his mother championed a movement for house-elf rights back in her time at Hogwarts, though it unfortunately never went anywhere. This was a shock yet also a most pleasant surprise for Hermione, as Professor Potter never mentioned her activism in their countless discussions. Harry even suggested a name change for S.P.E.W after he pointed out how it could be said.
"How did I never spot that?" Hermione asked herself, shocked at her own acronym choice.
"Sometimes people get too focused on the big picture and forget about the small things. Dad says that substance without style often falls flat, and even the tiniest amount of 'uncoolness' can rubbish what you're selling."
"Well, he's not entirely correct because you seem to be interested in me despite me being very uncool."
Harry looked baffled.
"But I don't think you're uncool."
Something pleasant fluttered in her stomach.
Just as Hermione was about to ask him if he had any favourite books, Harry looked at something behind her shoulder and instantly turned red, awkwardly taking a large gulp of butterbeer before having a coughing fit. Hermione turned around and saw his parents - Professor and Head Auror Potter - grinning at the pair.
"Why on earth are your parents watching us?" she hissed through gritted teeth.
"I uh… Well… I told mum that…" Harry rubbed the back of his neck, "Basically, I told my mum that I've had a bit of a crush on you for a while now, and I guess she wanted to see how our first date went… and she brought dad with her." He was grimacing and very interested in his butterbeer bottle by the end of his explanation.
Hermione glared at him, though he couldn't see it.
"You're lucky I like and know your mother because otherwise I'd be incredibly worried about their style of parenting and whether or not they'd accompany us on future dates."
He looked up from his bottle and smiled at her.
"Future dates? Going that well, huh?"
"It's a hypothetical," she lied, though he clearly saw right through it, the smile on his face not going away.
"Y'know, Mum talks about you all the time."
Oh goodness.
"She does?" Hermione asked, trying not to sound too curious.
"Yeah, it's one of the reasons why I got a crush on you." It still hadn't quite sunk in for Hermione that someone had a crush on her, but the way Harry so plainly and confidently said it repeatedly now, like it was a straight-foward law of magic, did strange things to her stomach. "She would talk about how great you are, and how you could challenge her and keep her on her toes. Honestly, you're her favourite topic of conversation."
That did even more wonders for Hermione. It was all rather surreal, but Hermione was feeling terribly glad that she agreed to this date. Harry was proving to be simply lovely.
"Do you have any favourite books?" Hermione finally managed to ask, desperate for a change in topic lest she combust from the second-hand praise.
Harry leaned back in his chair, looking to the ceiling as his thoughts almost visibly whirled around his head.
"Good question," he eventually said, looking back at Hermione, "I'm stuck between Phoebe Yannis and the Arithmancer's Vial by T.O. Raleigh or Castelobruxo: Exploring the Ruins by Sally-Anne Cranne."
Amazingly, Hermione had heard of neither book. She leaned forwards with what she knew was a slightly crazed glint in her eye.
"Tell me about them."
Harry looked a bit taken aback, but quickly recovered with a grin as he happily delved into talking about his favourite books.
"Well, Phoebe Yannis is about a Squib who was destined to defeat a Dark Wizard and she used muggle technology to do it - which means it's banned in quite a few countries for being too pro-muggle." Harry sighed and shook his head in what must be disbelief. "It's a kids story, but it holds a special place in my heart since it was my favourite when I was younger."
"That sounds really sweet. It'd be interesting to see a wizarding perspective of muggles in a fictional tale as opposed to the rubbish that's taught in Muggle Studies."
"Well, I can lend you my copy. Mind you, it's a rare one, so you'd have to be careful with it." (As if she would be careless with a book. Honestly!) "It took Dad almost three years to get his hands on a copy as a present for Mum, and she passed it on to me."
"Trust me, Harry, I can look after books." Hermione smiled. "But thank you, that's very kind of you."
"You're very welcome."
After talking about Phoebe Yannis for a little longer, Harry also explained Castelobruxo: Exploring the Ruins. Apparently, Castelobruxo - the Brazilian school for magic - was built upon ancient Amazonian ruins that were feared to be cursed; no one that delved into its depths ever came out the same. The author - Sally-Anne Cranne - was a Canadian cursebreaker and the first to figure out, and break, the curse: a Dream Catcher that quite literally caught and kept your dreams, cursing you to a fate of perpetual nightmares and existential dread.
Hermione knew that she'd be researching Castelobruxo as much as she could, as soon as she could.
After Rosmerta came by to collect their empty plates, Harry and Hermione took a sip of their butterbeers at the same time and caught each other's eyes, causing them to burst into giggles and unattractively sputter a little.
"Don't look at me like that!" she groaned playfully, cleaning her robes with her wand and shyly avoiding Harry's gaze.
"Well, don't look at me like that," he retorted, wiping his mouth.
Hermione hummed. "We have two options, then: We can continue this date whilst staring at the table and never look at each other again, or we can be very brave and look at each other."
"I wouldn't be a Gryffindor if I didn't take the brave option. And, anyways, I very much don't want to stop looking at you."
Hermione looked up to stare at him. His eyes were glinting with cheek.
Did he even know what he was saying? Hermione went on this date expecting at least passable conversation, but Harry had knocked all expectations out of the park, and now Hermione was fighting against the pixies laying a nest inside her stomach.
Madam Rosmerta came back one final time to enquire about desserts.
A few minutes later, tucking into her Victoria Sponge cake, Harry asked Hermione about when she got her Hogwarts letter. It was one of her favourite memories.
"Well, it was a bit of a shock when an owl flew through the window," Hermione started. "It was just me and the nanny at home at the time, and it gave us quite a fright. I read the letter and was about to throw it away, thinking it was some horrible prank by the local public schoolboys - they did all sorts of awful things to wildlife - when your mother of all people rang the doorbell."
"Wait, my mum was your guide?" Harry asked, clearly surprised.
"She was. She said that as the most familiar with Muggles, she and Professor Quirrell went around introducing the Muggleborn and Muggleraised to the world. She took me and my parents around Diagon Alley and all that that involved, and I asked so many questions I was worried that I had scared your mum off."
"I'm sure she adored you from the first meeting."
She'd never admit it outloud, but Hermione thought he was probably right. She and Professor Potter had hit it off straight-away, more so than Hermione had ever done with anyone - until now, perhaps.
"To tell the truth, had I known that Professor Potter was a Gryffindor before the Sorting, I think I would've asked to go there when given the choice."
It was a tough decision at the time, but the appeal of the so-called 'House of Knowledge' was too strong to ignore. Sometimes, Hermione regretted her choice.
"It's a shame you made the wrong choice," Harry teased, looking smug at the glare Hermione sent him. "I think you would've made a fantastic Gryffindor."
"I'd be fantastic wherever I was sorted," she replied with faux-aloofness.
"I'm certain."
By the end of the date, Hermione quickly suggested a second to take place as soon as possible, perhaps in the library or even the Ravenclaw common room. The smile Harry gave her when he agreed was intoxicating, though Hermione still had her reservations as they stood up to leave.
"I'm not very good at this 'dating' thing, you know," she said quietly, nervously rubbing her arm, "I'll probably make a lot of mistakes and ruin it."
Harry didn't miss a beat.
"I think you're worth a lot more than any mistakes you might make."
Hermione couldn't help her smile. She liked him an awful lot.