24Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended.
A Harmony birthday fic for Frumpologist
Trope: No War!AU
July 1995
"You know, when you said you wanted to do something fun for my birthday, I'd assumed you meant actual fun—not going to a museum," Harry sighed as he trudged along the busy London street beside the girl who'd quickly become his best friend over the last four years.
"A little academia never hurt anyone, Harry," Hermione said as she scanned the paper map in front of her. "Besides, we've only just begun. Next is the Natural History Museum, and Robbie Wilkerson said they had new dinosaur bones on display."
Harry's eyes rolled behind his thin wire glasses frames as he stuffed his hands into the front pocket of his denim trousers. Robbie Wilkerson. She wouldn't stop talking about her bloody neighbour. 'He's so tall!' 'He's got a bicycle.' 'He's so funny.' Harry had never met the guy, but he highly doubted he was anywhere near as cool as Hermione made him seem.
Besides, who gave a shite about a bicycle when you could fly a broomstick? His mum and dad had just gotten him a new Firebolt for the upcoming Quidditch season and he didn't hear her fawning over it like she did about Robbie Wilkerson.
"Oh! Will you hold this?" Hermione thrust the map at his chest, and begun to unzip the small purple purse at her hip, tongue held between her teeth as she began to fumble with the contents inside.
Harry scrambled to catch the map before it flew away into the busy street. He felt it crumble in his fist and he narrowly avoided a head on collision with a business man in a three piece suit who was talking rather loudly on his mobile. "Merlin's pants, 'Mione, What are you—"
"I want an ice-lolly." Hermione said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, glancing up from where she'd begun digging in her small cross-body before she gestured towards the street vendor several yards across the courtyard to their left.
"Are you kidding me?" Harry groaned. "You almost lost our map—our only way around London—for an ice-lolly?"
"Stop being so dramatic, Harry." Hermione fished out a couple paper notes from her purse, quickly counting them before she looked up. "You're a wizard, we'd have figured out how to get back to Diagon Alley eventually."
"Whatever, just hurry," he said, beginning to fold the map. He watched her from the corner of her eye as she crossed the busy courtyard, making sure she made the short journey safely. He hadn't spent much time in Muggle London growing up, but his dad told him to make sure he kept an eye on Hermione during their excursion.
"Hey! Buy me one too!" He called out just as she reached the vendor. "Chocolate!"
Hermione waved him off and rolled her eyes before turning her back and quickly speaking with the vendor.
Harry tucked the map in his back pocket before withdrawing his wallet. His mum gave him some Muggle money the night before to cover lunch and anything else the two might need on their day on the town. He wasn't even sure how much an ice-lolly cost—Florence's was only a couple knuts, so surely a five pound note would be able to cover it?
Lifting his shoulders in a small shrug, he withdrew the crisp bill from his wallet before stuffing it into his back pocket as he waited for Hermione to come back with the treat.
"Here you one. One Chocolate Fudge." She said with a toothy grin. In her hand a double scoop ice cream cone awaited him.
Harry licked his lips hungrily before taking the treat from her. "Wow, this looks...really good." He said with a small hint of surprise lining his tone. He took a quick lick from the side of the lolly before it could melt down his hand and he held out the note for her to take with his other hand. "Thanks."
Hermione looked at the bill in his hand, her brows furrowed and she shook her head before taking a small lick of her own pink confection. "Keep it. Consider it my treat."
"What? No way," Harry insisted, thrusting his hand towards her. "A wizard's supposed to pay for these kind of things."
"And a friend buys their mate a treat for their birthday," Hermione said pointedly as she began down the sidewalk, wild curls bouncing with each step. "Besides, you're not my wizard—you're just…Harry."
A small something akin to disappointment bloomed in his chest, but Harry didn't linger on the confusing feeling too long. Double stepping to keep up with Hermione's quick pace, Harry balanced his melting ice lolly while scurrying after her. "I don't know what that's supposed to mean, but seriously, take the money Hermione. I'm not making you pay for my treat."
"Too late, already did," she said, punctuating her words with a small harrumph.
She was frustrating, sometimes irritatingly so, but it was moments like these that reminded Harry of why they'd become friends in the first place. She wasn't interested in friendship because of his famous parents, or his family money. In fact, when they first met, she didn't even know the story that had been told all around Wizarding Britain since he was just a baby. How Lily and James Potter defeated the Dark Lord who had tried to claim his life.
Hermione was a bright spot in his life, and wanted to be his friend because she actually enjoyed his company, not because she had something to gain from it.
As they slowed to a stop at the next street light, Harry curled the paper note into a small ball in his fist. "Alright…fine," he said before sweeping his tongue across the base of his lolly to collect the melting chocolate. "But you'll let me buy lunch later?"
"As if, Harry Potter. It's your birthday gift, remember?" Hermione sighed, shaking her head at him. "Just be grateful I like you enough to drag you around London with me on a Saturday."
"Oh man…I'm so lucky," he teased before leaning in to nudge her shoulder with his. The hand holding the note moved quickly, slipping the balled up bill into the front pocket of her sweater, and he held his breath, praying she wouldn't notice the subtle slip of the currency. He knew she'd never willingly take the money, and would likely be furious when she found it, but he couldn't not pay her…after all, isn't that what wizards were supposed to do?
October 1996
"Can you believe the audacity of Snape? Assigning us a five foot essay on a Hogsmeade weekend." Ron complained through a mouthful of Honeydukes fudge, his lips smacking loudly as they moved down the leaf covered street.
Fall had taken over the Scottish countryside, filling the air with a brisk chill that turned the tip of Hermione's nose pink. She loved fall—the clean scent of the incoming winter, the warmth from a cozy fire and jumpers! So many jumpers she could finally wear. Fall was definitely her most favorite time of year.
Pulling the sugar quill she'd just purchased from her lips, she shot a conspiratorial glance towards Harry who walked just to her left before she turned her head to the right towards Ron. "Do you even know what that word means, Ronald?"
"Of course I do," Ron scoffed before popping the last bit of fudge into his mouth, chewing on the sweet noisily before licking the last lingering bits of chocolatey goodness from his fingers.
"Yeah?" Harry piped up, adjusting the crimson and gold knit cap that sat on his head so the front strands of his untidy black hair poked out across his forehead. "Define it, mate."
"Define it?" Ron repeated, cornflower blue eyes narrowing on Harry. "It means….you know...like how dare he do that—you know what I mean?" His voice trailed off, eyes widening a bit as he lifted his hand to gesticulate in a small waving motion in front of him, as if to imply they could fill in the rest.
"No, I don't, mate. That's why I asked you to define it," Harry said blankly, doing his best to keep his poker face strong as he cocked a brow at the redhead.
"Oh, come on," Ron groaned, his hand lifting to drag down the side of his face with an exasperated sigh.
It was only when Ron set his shoulders, preparing to use every tool in his arsenal to try and explain himself to Harry that Hermione broke the ruse and was the first to fall into a fit of giggles.
"Oh, fuck you both," Ron said, reaching over the top of Hermione to give Harry a firm shove. "You two are the bloody worst, you know that?"
"I've told you not to use words you can't define or spell before, Ronald. It's just common sense," Hermione teased as she lifted her hand to dab the corners of her eyes that had begun to collect tears.
Prior to Hogwarts, friendship had been difficult for her—she was often the butt of jokes, and had been alienated from her peers, but all that changed five years ago on the train ride to Hogwarts. The friendship she built that first year at the castle had continued on for five years now and thankfully showed zero signs of waning. Ron and Harry were the high point of her days—and although she often complained about them keeping her from her rivisions, she enjoyed every moment she got to spend running about the castle with them, and yes, even attending those dreadful Quidditch games.
Harry stumbled away from Ron's shove, drifting into the middle of the road, almost colliding with a gaggle of sixth-year Hufflepuff girls who scattered to avoid him.
"Sorry, ladies," Harry said, flashing that award winning Potter smile Hermione knew all too well by now, and when he spun around, walking backwards as he eyed and waved at the group, she simply rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the flutter of jealousy that bloomed to life in the pit of her stomach.
"Alright, Casanova. Come along." Hermione called over her shoulder, lips pursing to the corner of her mouth as they moved further into the sleepy little village. "You two still owe me a stop at Tomes and Scrolls."
"Ugh! Seriously? Hermione we just went there last month." Ron groaned, stuffing his hands the front pockets of his trousers as his lips pursed to the corner of his mouth in annoyance. "What on earth could you possible need from there again?"
"Well, I'd like to look for a couple books on Charms, what with Flitwork's end of term assignment—"
"It's not due for two bloody months!" Ron sighed dramatically, his head tipping back.
"Which really doesn't leave much time if I'm hoping to have at least three revisions before I turn it in," Hermione clucked, ignoring the way Ron's feet seemed to drag across the leaf covered ground. "Besides, I went with you both to that dreadful Quidditch shop—you owe me."
"It'll be alright, Ron." Harry double stepped to catch up to them, slinging his arm about his taller friend. "We can just look through the potions books and mark the unintentional inudenos again."
"I swear to Godric, if you two get me banned from Tomes and Scrolls—"
"It'll be fiiiine, Mione. Murdoch's a good friend of Uncle Moony's, he wouldn't kick us out...at least not forever," Harry said with a toothy grin before he withdrew his arm from around Ron, who seemed to find the silver-lining Harry presented as an acceptable use of time while visiting the bookstore.
Harry quickly fell into step between them, and try as she might, Hermione couldn't pretend to ignore the way his hand would brush against hers as they moved. It was accidental—it had to be, but there was an almost triumphant smugness that built inside her every time their closeness would catch the eye of the various fifth and sixth year girls who'd stared to fawn after the Gryffindor Seeker since the beginning of the year.
She was friends with Harry long before he grew into his looks, and while she wasn't even sure why it bothered her so much, every time she walked into the common room to hear yet another conversation about how fit Harry looked in his uniform, she felt one step closer to snapping at all of them.
"Chewing gum?"
Harry's question pulled her thoughts back to the present and away from how fit her best friend had become over the past couple years and she glanced to his hand which was already extended with the foil wrapped piece. "Oh, sure. Thank you, Harry." Reaching out she took the gum from him, her fingers brushing against his and as she pulled back, she flashed him a small smile as her cheeks tinted from their accidental touch.
"Oi, what about me?" Ron's face was suddenly over Harry's shoulder as his arm snaked to where they hands touched and he fumbled to reach in the bright blue and pink wrapper to retrieve his own piece.
"Circe's tit, I didn't forget about you. I was just offering one to 'Mione first!" Harry laughed, stumbling under the weight of Ron leaning on him, but instead of focusing on him, Harry's eyes remained glued on Hermione, watching intently as she began to unwrap her piece of chewing gum.
Hermione bit her bottom lip, telling herself his stare meant nothing, but it was hard to tell that to the butterflies that rioted in her stomach, and when she finally broke his gaze to look down at the gum that she'd unwrapped, the butterflies fell like a lead weight into the pit of her belly. Instead of the powdery pink gum a carefully folded five pound note sat inside the foil wrapper—the very same five pound note that they'd spent the better part of a year sneaking back and forth.
Of course.
Of course, Harry wasn't looking at her like that. He'd given her the note back! Because that made more sense than him actually feeling the same about her—because, of fucking course.
She wadded up the foil, an incredulous laugh bubbling up her throat and slipping from her lips as she unfolded the note to reveal the crinkled image of Queen Elizabeth with the faded inky mustache Harry had given her two months prior and she looked up to him. "You're such a shite. I can't even believe you did this."
"Ha!" Harry thrust his fist into the air triumphantly and he slipped out from under Ron's arm to dance ahead of them, ready to celebrate his victory. "I've literally been offering you gum for weeks—weeks, and it finally bloody happened."
Ron's brows nearly met in the middle of his forehead as he looked between the two, already noisily snapping on his gum. "Wait a second…is this that stupid thing you two've been doing since last year?"
"First off, not stupid," Harry said as he pulled out a stick of chewing gum and he held it out to Hermione with a too wide grin before shoving the pack in his jacket pocket. "Second, yes. And I've finally got her back!"
"You tricked me, it totally doesn't count!" Hermione defended as she stuffed the note into her front pocket before snatching the actual piece of chewing gum from Harry's fingers. She quickly unwrapped it before popping it in her mouth as she narrowed her eyes on Harry. "I'm just going to give it back to you, you know?"
"It absolutely counts!" Harry said, laughing as she brushed past him with a new snap to her step. "And you'd better not! It's like I told you before. A wizard—"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Harry James Potter." Hermione cut him off with a lift of her hand and a hard look over her shoulder before she climbed the steps to Tomes and Scrolls. "It's like I told you before. You're not my wizard—you're just Harry." Even as the words slipped from her tongue, Hermione wasn't sure for whose benefit she was reciting it for at this point, his or her own.
"Whatever you say, 'Mione," Harry replied back, a sing-song quality to his voice that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and the butterflies in her stomach flutter to life once more.
She yanked the door to Tomes and Scrolls open, the jingle of the brass bell signaling their entrance to the ancient looking wizard behind the counter. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she moved over the threshold, the heat from the shop's heating charms warmed her cheeks and the tips of her fingers as she repeated a well used mantra she'd begun reciting internally at the beginning of the year.
I don't fancy Harry. I don't fancy Harry. I don't fancy Harry.
December 1996
This was a daft idea.
There's no way she'd ever say yes.
Which is precisely why he shouldn't do it. Better to not embarrass himself. After all, he had a reputation to keep up—it wasn't exactly stellar at this point, what with turning down Cho after snogging her in the Quidditch Halls at the beginning of the school year, but—well, he knew the moment they'd kissed what he felt for her was definitely not what he felt for Hermione.
And that's exactly why he was in the predicament he was now.
Because this childhood crush he couldn't quite shake was more than he could stand. Especially after seeing her hold hands with Anthony Goldstein during last months Hogsmeade visit.
Fucking Goldstein. With his good hair, and extensive knowledge about obscure things like Gaelic Charms and Ancient Runes of Mesopotamia—who the bloody hell did he think he was trying to swoop in and steal Hermione away. Didn't he know that she wasn't on the market? Harry thought he'd made it abundantly clear over the years to the boys in his year that Hermione was most decidedly not available.
Yes, she technically wasn't his—but she wasn't really not his either.
They were best friends, and by proxy that gave him some sort of say in who she dated—right?
Probably not, but still, it sounded plausible, especially now.
"Harry, are you alright?"
His eyes flashed up from the squared parchment note he'd folded and refolded at least twenty times before leaving his dorm room this morning. "What?" His brow furrowed, thick black brows nearly meeting in the middle of his forehead as he looked across the table at the witch in question.
Hermione had dragged him to the library—no surprise there—during their free period, saying she wanted to do one last revision to her Ancient Runes essay. Harry was perfectly happy with the bare minimum three feet he'd finished earlier in the week, but didn't have the heart to tell her he never actually revised his essays when they came to these study sessions. He usually pretended and wrote out Quidditch formations, or sometimes drew little inky caricatures of their professors.
Could he work harder? Absolutely. But he wasn't willing to give extra brain power to looking over work he'd already completed. Besides, half of his classes hardly mattered anyways—he was less likely to use Ancient Runes while in the Academy than a handy maneuver on a broomstick.
As make Aurors—isn't that how the saying went? And with that friendly little turn of phrase, Harry was happy to coast through his remaining classes, meeting the minimum requirements necessary to keep on his projected career path.
"You just...look like you're about to be sick." Hermione laid her parchment on the well-worn table in front of her and she glanced around them, brown eyes flickering through the stacks as if looking for someone. "Madam Pince will be pissed if you vomit on any of her books—"
"'Mione, I'm fine," Harry breathed, laying the note on the centre of his desk before his hand rose to ruffle through the untidy hair on the back of his head. "I mean...at least I think I'm fine."
"Oh Merlin, Harry," Hermione winced. Plucking her wand up from where she'd let it rest on the table beside her, she tapped her parchment and it began to roll away before she began to dig through her bookbag. "I told you and Ronald not to eat that many Treacle Tarts. I know they're your favourite, but honestly, you could always just ask Dobby to bring—"
Harry watched her retrieve a thimble from her bag and she set it on the desk before flourishing her wand at the innocent object, causing it to enlarge until it was roughly the side of a small bin.
"—some to the common room when you fancy a sweet. I know he'd be more than happy to oblige."
Harry laughed, watching as she nudged the enlarged thimble towards him with a look that rivaled his own mother's, and a nervous laugh bubbled up his throat. "It's not—Merlin, Mione I'm not going to be sick...at least not like that."
Hermione pursed her lips together, slowly crossing her arms over her bosom and she tapped her wand against her shoulder, brown eyes flickering across his face in assessment. "You still don't look well…"
"Yeah, well…fuck it. Here." Harry picked up the note and he tossed it across the table towards her before elbowing the oversized thimble out of the way until it perched on the edge of the desk, allowing him a better view of her.
"Ah!" Hermione's hands lifted in her failed attempted to catch the parchment, but instead it slipped off the corner of the table and onto the floor. Bending low, she disappeared beneath the desk to retrieve it with a small huff. "Really Harry? I know it's just paper, but don't just toss things about. I'm not one of your team mates."
"Sorry." Harry grimaced, his hands winding nervously together in front of him. That really ought to make her interested in him—because every witch swoons over a sickly faced wizard who assaults them with paper products.
As she unfolded the parchment, his heart began to race. Each motion took seconds, but it felt like an eternity and he watched as the five pound note they'd been exchanging for the last two years fluttered to the table before her.
"Are you bloody kidding me? You did all this so you could—" Her words cut off as she picked up the crinkled note. Her eyes went wide and Harry couldn't tell if it was the good kind of surprise or the bad kind, but all he knew for certain was she could clearly read the red inked words he'd scrawled on the currency two weeks ago when he'd come up with this incredibly foolish plan.
"Oh…"
Harry's tongue swept across his suddenly dry lips, and he gulped to rid himself of the lump rapidly forming in his throat.
"...Oh!"
"You...already said that," Harry breathed, the riot of jack rabbits that had suddenly appeared his stomach began to kick up the dinner and numerous tartes he'd eaten and suddenly he wondered if Hermione's quick engorgio on that thimble wasn't such a bad idea.
"Harry I...Harry, this—"
"Look, it's okay! It's stupid, it's nothing. I shouldn't have even asked," Harry rushed out, his heart fracturing as he rose from his chair, knees knocking loudly against the table, sending a jolt of pain radiating down his legs. "Ow! Fuck. Okay, I just—eh. I just need this—" He mumbled as he leaned across the table, intent on snatching the note from her hand and setting it aflame.
This was stupid.
This was a bad idea.
Lavender and Pavarti were fucking wrong. Hermione very clearly did not feel the same way he did.
"What? No!" Hermione pulled her hands back, curling the note protectively against her chest as she looked up to him, her brows set low on her forehead. "You can't just take it back!"
"Yes, I can!" Harry insisted, his left hand dropping to brace himself against the table as he leaned forward, tongue catching between his teeth as he stretched. "Just give it here so I can go back to the common room and hex—"
"My answer is yes!"
Harry froze, hand still outreached, fingers barely touching the top of her hand and he slowly—very slowly, lifted his eyes to hers. "What?"
Hermione's hand curled around the note, crumpling the well worn money in her fist before she pushed up from her chair and she quickly tucked it into her pocket. "Yes...Yes I will go out with you."
"You...will?"
She didn't bother with a verbal reply but instead moved towards him, an unstoppable force and he an immovable object. Her hands curled around his cheeks, and he was suddenly keenly aware he probably should have taken the time to shave this morning. Before he could so much as react to her touch, her lips were on his and those little bunnies in his stomach began to riot. Kicking, scrambling, running amuck inside him.
Her lips were soft, just as soft as he remembered from that quick peck he got fifth year during spin the bottle, but Merlin if they didn't taste sweeter than before. His hand moved to sink into her curls as he slanted his mouth over hers, a smile stretching his lips despite their kiss.
She said yes!
Maybe her friends hadn't lied.
Or maybe she was as daft as he was, but none of it bloody mattered, because she said yes!
The sharp clearing of a throat pulled them apart, and Harry nearly tripped over his chair as he turned towards the sound to find the pinched face of a very disapproving librarian.
"Sorry Madam Pince." Hermione muttered quickly, her hands already smoothing out the bottom of her jumper and she let her eyes drop to the floor, keeping them off of the overly critical librarian until the witch swept away, muttering something about foolish children under her breath.
Harry was the first to laugh at her departure and he moved quickly around the table towards Hermione. He didn't wait to wrap his arms around her, pulling her towards him as he leaned back against the table, nearly flattening her rolled parchment with his backside.
Her hips slipped between his knees, but they kept a respectable distance from one another. A distance Harry prayed would disappear over the next few weeks, but he wasn't keen to press the issue—especially not now. His hands locked on her lower back, threading together comfortably as he smiled down at her. She'd said yes. She was his!
No fucking Goldstein, no other blokes talking about how fit she might look in a tighter fitting jumper. And no bloody dates with anyone but him.
Her hands pressed against his chest and he felt her fingers smooth across the scratchy wool of his cardigan, toying with the button that sat at the centre of his chest and he couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "Say it again," He requested before sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully as he watched pink tint her cheeks.
"Say what?"
"That you'll go out with me."
Hermione's smile brightened to her eyes, and she took a quick glance down the aisle to where Pince had just stood, checking to make sure the coast was clear before she looked back up at him. "Yes," she whispered, brown eyes flickering down to his lips as she rose up on her toes. "Yes, I'll go out with you." She added for good measure before sealing her mouth over his once more.
January 1998
Christmas Holiday had been busier than Hermione had hoped.
What with helping her parents pack for what they kept referring to as their 'sabbatical'. She was graduating in seven short months, and had already signed paperwork to begin an entry level position with the Department of Magical Creature in late July. That had apparently sent her parents into a spiral of figuring out what to do with their lives now that their only child was grown and entering the real world—whatever the bloody hell that meant.
They'd waffled for months, changing their minds several times before finally landing on something that stuck. Australia. Merlin only knew what they'd do when they got there, as their certificates and licensing didn't transfer between countries, but they were dead set on going.
It had bothered her in the beginning—knowing they were selling her childhood home and would be literally a continent away, but magic helped. She could always access a Portkey to go visit, and fire call when they were home. And truth be told, she knew the Ministry would keep her busy.
Well, the Ministry and Harry.
Her relationship with her childhood best friend showed no signs of slowing down. When she'd told him yes over a year ago, she wasn't entirely sure how long they'd last. It wasn't that she wasn't interested in a relationship with him—quite the opposite actually. She'd just wondered if maybe she wanted it more than he did. Maybe it would put a strain on their friendship with Ron. Maybe Harry would realise she wasn't as great as he might have once thought.
But those fears were quickly silenced by the time they'd reached the sixth month mark and celebrated by spending the night in his suspiciously empty dorm room learning each other's bodies.
"I'm sorry I couldn't sneak away before Christmas." Hermione glanced up at Harry as they walked side by side down the sidewalk leading up to her home. The For Sale signed swung in the gentle winter breeze, stirring the freshly fallen snow to swirl around their boots. "Mum's had family over nearly every night since we went on holiday."
"It's fine." Harry squeezed her hand, flashing her that cheeky smile that made her breath hitch in her throat. "I've kept busy too."
"Oh?" Hermione lift a brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Doing what exactly?"
"A little of this and that," Harry said with an offhanded wave. "Homework, visiting Ron and Neville...flirting with that cute barista at—ow! Okay okay! I was kidding, geez." Harry laughed, releasing his hold on her hand to loop his arm over her shoulders. "I did visit Ron and Neville, but I've mainly been lounging around the house, eating too many sweets and waiting for you to finally tell me when I could take you out on a proper date."
Hermione leaned her head against his shoulder, his arm looping around her waist and she tucked her hand into his jacket pocket to keep the frost off her already cold fingers. "You should have owl'd me sooner, I would have found time," she sighed.
"No way, It's your family's last holiday together before your parents leave...I know how important it is to you."
It was moments like these—where Harry said something to foolishly selfless that she was reminded all over again why she fell for him in the first place. It wasn't his looks—although that bit did help—but rather his heart. So big, and beautiful.
Harry had had all the potential of growing up to be an arse. Famous family. Loads of money. Award winning smile. He was, by all accounts, destined to be a total brat. But he wasn't—he was so far from selfish and pompous that is was almost astounding. He never once questioned her ability based on being Muggleborn. He stuck up for her when Malfoy and his cronies used that terrible slur, and even went so far as to break the rules so he could sit alongside her in detention when she slapped the blond ferret during their third year.
Harry was everything she could have ever wanted in a boyfriend, and she was lucky enough to not just have him as her partner, but also her best friend.
"Did you find the note?" Harry reached out, pushing open the small gate that blocked the walkway up to her front porch and let her out from his protective hold so she could slip through before he followed.
Hermione snorted, shooting a quick glance over her shoulder before she shook her head as she made her way up her front steps. "Yes—and thank Merlin I did and not my Mum. How would you have expected me to explain that being pinned to a pair of my knickers in my trunk?" She said through a small laugh.
"You're a smart witch. I'm sure you could have found a way," Harry teased, and as he reached the top step, he pulled his knit cap from his head and tucked it into the jacket pocket her hand had been a resident of.
"I don't know whether to be happy you have such confidence in my abilities, or disappointed because you and I both know how shite I am at lying." Hermione stepped closer to Harry, her arms winding around his waist once more as she leaned in. Even through the thick layers of their jackets, she could feel the warmth of his skin radiate into hers.
"Hrmmm. I'd say go with the first," Harry said as his hands lifted to slide into the side of her curls, holding them back from her face and he leaned down to press a kiss on the tip of her rosey nose. "Because that one's always true." He beamed down at her, his thumbs sweeping across the high of her cheek almost reverently before he leaned down to bring her into a slow, burning kiss.
Hermione molded her body to his, letting the familiarity of his tongue sweeping past her lips ignite the fire low in her belly. It would be so easy to sneak him inside and upstairs with her, what with silencing spells and her exhausted parents. She'd nearly perfected her wards by now, and Harry even knew the contraceptive charm wandlessly now. They could celebrate their little yuletide dinner date properly—but as badly as she wanted it, she knew the timing wasn't right.
The last thing she needed was to mess up and have to have the dreaded yes, I'm shagging my boyfriend and yes we're being careful conversation with her parents—and knowing them, they'd likely insist on telling Lily and James, who in turn would tell his uncles, and the last thing she needed was everyone in his bloody family knowing they were shagging because Merlin only knew it would make their plan of her staying over during Easter holiday exceedingly awkward.
Slowly breaking the kiss, Hermione brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth sweetly as she slowly lowered back to the ground from her toes. "Happy Christmas, Harry," she whispered, her lips still close enough to ghost against his.
"Happy Christmas, 'Mione," he returned, his hand lifting to pet against her curls. She could feel his body tense with a need she was all too familiar with, and before she could change her mind, she slipped from his hold, letting one of her hands slide down the length of his arm and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze before she stepped even further back.
"See you at King's Cross on Monday?" Hermione questioned hopefully, her head tilting to the side.
"Stampeding Hippogriff couldn't stop me." Harry withdrew his hat from pocket, and just as he shook out the burgundy cap, preparing to stuff it over his untidy hair to keep out the cold, a small rolled up note fell from it, and landed at his feet. "Oh bugger, is this—really? Tonight?"
Her breath caught in her throat, watching as Harry bent low, picking up the tightly rolled note. He wasn't supposed to find it yet! He was supposed to wait until he got home! Shite.
This little game of theirs has been going strong for over three years now. The back and forth with the same note he gave her that summer before fifth year. Ron's annoyance with their game was limitless, although he was happy to participate when either of them recruited him.
Hermione had gotten quite good at sneaking the note into his text books and magicking it to his homework—it was an easy way to double check that he was actually doing what he was supposed to. She'd also once stickied it to his broomstick before a big Quidditch match against Slytherin, hoping their playful game might relax him, even just a bit, before he took the field.
And Harry, for his part, was rather clever with how he'd return the note to her. He'd tucked it in her loafers one evening after a long snogging session on the common room couches and she didn't find it until halfway into the next morning when her foot kept slipping and sliding in her shoe. One time, he'd gone as far as to figure out which book she'd be checking out next from the library and tucked it inside for her to stumble across during her reading.
The key was to be unpredictable–catch the other person off guard, and really surprise them. And since she'd had the note since October, she figured tonight would be shocking enough—but she'd hoped he would find it once he wasn't in front of her to see what she'd written on it.
"I have to admit, I was starting to wonder if you'd given up," Harry laughed as he untied the small red twine that she'd secured around it, and when he unrolled the note, his smile faltered, emerald eyes widening as he stared at the newest addition to the words they'd penned over the years.
"I..uh...I'm just going to—" Hermione mumbled as she took decisive steps backward, feeling for her doorknob. Shite, shite, shite! She needed an out, she needed to give him the opportunity to act like he didn't see them—those three little words that held so much bloody meaning.
Harry looked up, a dumb-struck look still blanking his face but when her hand finally found the cold metal knob to her front door, her grandmother's opal ring clinking against it, Harry seemed to snap back to reality.
One second he was across from her and the next he was on her, pinning her against the door, his lips pressing against hers feverishly, and his hand, with the note—their note, still held betwixt his fingers, was at her cheek.
He kissed her like never before, pouring every ounce of the universe into that singular moment. Like she was the moon, the stars and the heavens above, and he a humble servant to their offerings of greatness. She'd only dreamt of being kissed like this, with such reverence that it made her knees buckle and her mind go numb.
He molded himself against her, pushing her against the hard wood of her parent's front door, and she gasped for air when his lips finally left hers and he began to pepper soft pecks across her cheeks and brow.
"I love you too," Harry breathed against her skin, his lips brushing across her still closed eyelids. "I've loved you for so bloody long." He spoke the words like a confession—as if he were suddenly free from the weight of it.
Her mind was still fuzzy, trying to catch up to speed from her lack of oxygen, but as she finally cracked open her eyes to look up at him, what she saw wasn't the boy who'd taken her out to dinner earlier, but rather a man. Just on the cusp of adulthood, but a man nonetheless, pouring his heart out to her on her parent's front porch.
Her heart skipped a beat, and as she lifted her hand from his chest to cup his cheek, a new warmth spilled into her soul. He loved her. He felt the same as she, and moreover, he'd said he felt that way for a while. "Don't go home," she whispered impulsively, her other hand curling into his jacket, afraid he might slip away into the night. "Stay with me…tell me again—say it a million times over."
Harry nodded, a slow smile lifting his lips so wide that the corner of his eyes crinkled. "I'm not going anywhere...tonight, or ever," he promised as his fingers sunk into her curls and he angled her head back as he bent down to brush his lips across hers. "I love you, Hermione Granger."
A shiver ran down her spine, and all the reasons she'd come up with for him not to stay suddenly seemed so childish. "I love you too, Harry."
Author's Note:
Fic-spiration is taken from a reddit post about a man and his wife exchanging a dollar bill over years of dating. I thought the idea was absolutely adorable and couldn't resist using it for a Harmony fic-and then Frumpologist's birthday came upon us and I used it at the perfect excuse to write this. 3
To Frumpologist. Your endless support in this fandom is a true treasure. You'v been kind since the moment we first met, and I value your friendship more than you will ever know. 3 Happy birthday love!
Aesthetic credit to LadyKenz347. She captured the feel for this fic so perfectly!
Thank you to Disenchantedglow for clutch betaing! any remaining mistakes are my own. Part 2 will be up shortly.
Until next time. xx
