Work Text:
Concinnity
“Hermione. Hermione .” Harry waved a hand in front of Hermione’s face. Her hazel eyes were unfocused, while her finger picked at the lilies in the vase. “Are you alright?”
She hummed, not removing her eyes from her fingers until Harry shook her shoulder. “Uh, yes, Harry. Since when have you been here?”
"A fair few minutes." He looked closely at Hermione's eyes, which were red from lack of sleep. "Are you feeling alright?"
She rubbed her eyes, clutching a rose in her fist. "Yes, just tired."
Harry sighed, "You shouldn't work too much, Hermione."
"I don't work too much. I just can't sleep."
"The therapy?"
"Not working. I would have liked to go to a Muggle therapist, but since options are limited…" she trailed off, turning to look at him. "You don't look much better either."
"Nightmares." He didn't expand on that. He didn't need to.
Hermione nodded.
"Hermione," Harry said tentatively. "Are you and Ron alright?"
Hermione looked up at him with a frown in her face. "What do you mean?"
"It's just, you both look miserable. Him, more than anything. Can't help being worried about you two." He expressed with a voice of concern for his two best friends.
"You want me to be honest?" Seeing Harry nod, she continued. "Not really. The way he acts is annoying. But, it'll pass, I think."
Harry's face flooded with relief. "I hate seeing my best friends fight each other."
"I know, Harry, but sometimes it feels like he doesn't see me as a person. I'm tired of him saying insensitive things.""
"I understand."
"You should go, Harry. Don't you have Quidditch?"
"Oh yeah," he said as he checked his watch. He patted Hermione's hand. "I'll see you at dinner, 'Mione."
"Potter?"
"Yes?" He turned to face the Fat Lady's painting.
She smiled sadly. "Sometimes, it's best to let go." She walked out of her portrait, probably to visit her friend Violet, leaving Harry bewildered.
Was it that obvious? He felt his heart weigh him down as he struggled to focus on training. He barely noticed the bludger shooting straight at his face.
After a few close saves of getting something brokens by a bludger
"What the hell, Ron?" He yelled as he was tackled to the ground by the redhead. He went quiet as he saw a Bludger whizz straight past where he had been.
"You're the Captain. You are supposed to be focusing on practice. Not zoning out." He yelled back, chucking a Quaffle at his head.
"Quit it. You wouldn't understand."
"What wouldn’t I understand Harry? Because that's all you have done. Telling me that I wouldn't understand."
"Can we talk after practice?" He asked weakly, rubbing his head where the Quaffle had hit him.
"We can talk now." Ron glared at him.
"Practice dismissed. Go have dinner guys. We'll pick this up tomorrow. Sorry." He called at everyone as the team erupted in a chorus of groans. He felt himself getting dragged to the changing rooms by his friend. "Ron, listen."
"I'm ready to listen. So, you better tell me." His ears were red with anger. Always a dangerous sign.
Harry stayed silent for a while, facing an internal conflict.
I can't tell him I love Hermione!
You have to or it could end up getting worse.
It would get worse if I told him.
You don't know that.
"Harry!" Ron's voice shook him out of his daze. "Hell, you're worse than Hermione."
"No one can be worse than Hermione at zoning out."
"Oh, so now he talks."
"I love someone."
"Whatever I was expecting, it wasn't that." Ron's mouth hung open in surprise.
"Don't catch a fly." He stood, pulling off his Quidditch robes.
It took Ron a while to recover from the shock of the news. "Well, ask her out, then."
Harry shook his head. "It’s hard to.”
Ron tried to suppress his laugh.
"You think this is funny?"
He felt a surge of jealousy at the sight of Hermione sitting with Terry at the Ravenclaw table. "What is she doing there?" He muttered to himself.
In less than a few minutes Hermione sat down next to Harry with a sigh.
“What happened over there?” Harry asked her, while piling some mashed potatoes on his plate.
“He asked me out earlier,” she said nonchalantly. “It wouldn’t have worked out and I think he understood.”
Harry smiled as he ate his potatoes.
“What are you smiling about?” Hermione asked indignantly, slapping him on the shoulder.
“Nothing.”
As the days passed, Harry tried not to be as obvious of his feelings, wanting to not distract Hermione from her studies. But, oh, did Hermione notice. She was perhaps noticing him a bit more than usual…
"You like Hermione," Ron said one day as he noticed Harry staring at her.
Harry clenched his jaw. He had a bad feeling about this. "So?"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"You wouldn't have liked it."
"So you kept it quiet when you know I like her too?"
"That is precisely why I didn't tell you."
"She already rejected me. The least you could've done was tell me about it, mate."
"It doesn't matter now. You shouldn't have left, Ron," he said, referring to the Horcrux hunt. "You hurt her."
Ron shrugged. “And not a day goes by that I don’t regret it now.” He shook his head. “Nothing I can do about it now, I guess." He said nothing more and nodded to him before walking up to his dormitory.
"You alright?" Hermione asked Harry as she sat down beside him. Truth be told, her eyes always seemed to draw themselves back to Harry, even when she tried not to. It didn’t help that he looked cute. Or that he had this small quirky smile about him when he saw someone familiar in the corridors. Or the discomfort he still got from people pointing at him wherever he went.
"Can I get a hug?"
Hermione laughed. "If that's what it takes." She held out her arms.
Harry hugged her tight, her warm hands snaked their way to his neck. "Thank you," he mumbled, his voice muffled by her hair.
Hermione was elated. That night when he had asked for that hug, she was relieved. Relieved that he didn't hide himself from her. Ecstatic that he seeked comfort from her.
She felt herself flush time and time again when he complimented her. She noticed his looks. The cute scratch of his head when he didn't get something. The small stutter when he was embarrassed.
It wasn't long before something happened.
Hermione's eyes scanned the white sheet. The barn owl hooted on her wrist. The wind howled like a wolf in the light of dawn. In a way it reminded her of Padfoot. A lot of things seemed to remind her of a lot of people these days.
Andromeda had owled Harry a picture of Teddy with purple hair and she had burst out crying in the middle of breakfast.
"Seriously, mom?" she said loudly.
The owl looked at her curiously, hooting.
"She wants me to go to the Valentine's Ball," she said to him, rolling her eyes.
The owl hooted again.
"I know right? I don't want to go."
Or maybe… Her thoughts strayed to Harry. What if…?
"Go where?" Harry's voice came from the Owlery doorway.
Hermione jumped. The owl flew out before she replied. "A ball on the 14th.”
"Why don't you want to?" He asked her curiously as he looked for Hedwig among the mass of owls.
She sighed. "I don't want to go alone," she said quietly.
"You could always stay here. We could take a trip to Hogsmeade," he offered hopefully.
Hermione thought of it. "Or, we could go to the ball together? Like—" she said in a single breath.
Harry's heart did a somersault. He answered without skipping a beat. "Of course I'll come with you."
"—as friends," she added in a hurry. "Umm, just to be clear." She wasn’t ready to let Harry know about her feelings yet. Hell, she wasn’t sure yet.
Harry's smile fell as he leaned in. His fingers brushed Hermione's cheek. "I don't want to go as friends, Hermione," he said, pulling back.
Hermione’s heart fluttered at the touch.
"Harry," she caught his wrist as he moved away. "Wait."
Harry placed an arm around her waist, pressing his forehead to hers. "If you don't want to be with me, tell me. Don't drag it out," he said quietly, pleading.
"I would have to be an idiot to not be with you." As she stared into his emerald green eyes, leaning closer, she knew. That was all it took. A small brush of his fingers against her cheek.
Harry's heart exploded in a bout of happiness. "You want to?"
"I want to."
Her lips brushed his, close to a kiss, their breaths mingling.
The sound of something heavy falling of footsteps intruded the Owlery.
Hermione and Harry jumped as they heard it. Blushing fiercely, both of them turned to find a flaming redhead standing sleepily.
"Harry? Hermione?" Ginny said with a yawn. "Luna owes me ten galleons," she muttered as she turned back and left.
Hermione choked as Harry exclaimed, "What?"
"I am such a twat," Harry said loudly, which was greeted by a great amount of shushing. "Sorry," he muttered.
They had holed up in the library, the most inconspicuous place for them to be without getting caught by Hermione. If she was looking for them, the library wouldn't be the first place she looked.
"That isn't news." Exer ducked as Harry aimed a blow to his head. "But do go on. What did you do this time, O' Chosen One?"
Harry glared at the Slytherin. "I confessed." He crossed his legs as he leaned back on his chair. "Like an idiot."
"What did she say?" he asked with an amused smile.
"Haha, humour based on my pain. Why not?" he muttered.
"So, she rejected you?"
"No. We nearly kissed."
"Then what's your problem?"
"I nearly kissed her."
"And that is bothering you." Exer said with a glare. "You're scared, aren't you?"
Harry scoffed. "I am not scared . Why in Merlin's pants would I be scared?"
"Oh spare me the BS. You know it and just don't want to admit that I am right." He snapped his book close. “You lost many people to the war, and you are scared of losing Hermione too.”
Harry stayed silent.
“She isn’t going anywhere, Harry. If she does, she’s missing out.”
"You're awfully good at making me feel slightly better, Finius Exer Harrick," he said with a grin.
"You lost first name privileges."
"How can I earn them back?"
"Lose the next Quidditch game to Slytherin."
Harry laughed. "Not happening."
He smirked. "No first name privileges for you, then"
The wintry air blew, the snow peppering the trees and grasses. The frost glittered, catching the reflection of everything around.
It looked like it was going to be a wonderful Valentine's Day evening in the smaller nook of the world of Muggles with a cheer of festivity and a splash of love in the Granger house. It wasn’t pink, don't be silly.
Harry walked inside her room, silently, unbeknownst to her. “You look beautiful,” he muttered as he hugged her from behind.
She smiled, looking at him over her shoulder. “And you… tried to flatten your hair?” she asked with an incredulous expression.
Harry grimaced. “Thought it was a worthy attempt.”
“I liked it messier.” She grinned as she flicked her wand and returned his hair back to its original state.
“Oh come on! That took me 30 minutes.” He frowned as he touched his hair.
Hermione smiled like the witch she was. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Got a little something for you.” He waved his hand. A necklace appeared on Hermione’s neck, dripping over her collarbone, with it’s blue gems matching her gown.
Hermione gasped. "It's beautiful. You shouldn't have."
“But I did.” He smiled as he bowed, and took her hand. “Shall we?”
The bright lights welcomed them, warm. Swathing them in a blanket of comfort and romance. Some would say the ballroom was nowhere near the parties at Hogwarts. But to Harry, who had Hermione, and Hermione, who had Harry, it was as beautiful as it could get. And for the Grangers, and the other unnamed Muggles, it was the best annual party ever.
Mrs. Granger gently took Hermione’s arm and walked her over to the appetiser table. “So,” she said, her eyes twinkling and a mischievous smile on her face.
Hermione shook her head. “Mum. No.”
“Come on, Hermione, darling. Harry likes you. How do you feel?”
“I feel better than I ever was the past year,” she admitted, fighting off a grin.
“I knew ballroom dancing was a good idea. We’ve missed you.” Mrs. Granger smiled softly, with a twinge of sadness in her eyes. “Come home often, alright.”
Hermione kissed her cheek. “Of course, mum.”
“Mr. Granger, if you’re about to give me the ‘if you hurt her, you’re dead’ talk, let me tell you I would never hurt her. She’s the best thing that’s happened to me in my entire life,” Harry said as he sipped the champagne from his glass. He had half-expected this to happen right before the dance. Mr. Granger wanting to ‘talk’ with him.
He laughed, as if he found Harry amusing. “I know, Harry. I understood that when I saw how you look at my daughter.” He chuckled at Harry’s expression of disbelief. “Yes, it’s that obvious. But, I was going to ask you if you would mind if I got the first dance with my daughter tonight.”
“I think that’s for Hermione to decide, Mr. Granger,” Harry said with a smile. “But, yes, I would mind,” he said with an amused tone.
Hermione smiled as he overheard their conversation. She laughed softly.
Her dad caught sight of her. Hermione hastily tried to escape them before she was stopped by him calling her. “Hermione, darling, you tell us.”
Hermione pondered over her decision. "Tell you what," she said suddenly, startling them both. "Answer my question and I'll dance with whoever gets it right."
Harry and her dad sighed.
Taking that as yes, she continued. "What do I smell Amortentia as?" she sacked with a smug smirk that elicited a grin from both the men. "I told both of you so you can't wiggle out of this."
"Grass, parchment, and something that made you blush," Harry said with a knowing smile.
Mr. Granger coughed slightly. " Freshly mown grass, parchment, and treacle tart," he said with a smirk on his face directed at Harry. "Which, for clarification, is what you smell like."
Hermione blushed, just like she had during Potions class. "I didn't know it then," she said indignantly.
Mr. Granger laughed heartily, and Harry smiled shyly at the reveal of the news information. "Alright, you get the first dance, then," he said, smiling.
"Ah, I was kidding, Harry. Now if you'll both excuse me, I have to rescue my wife from the clutches of her friends." He smiled. "You two enjoy the dance. And don't get carried away." He winked as he walked off into the crowd.
Hermione shook her head, defeatedly as her dad walked away. "Oh Merlin…"
Harry's eyes twinkled as he offered his hand to her. "May I have the first dance, m'lady?"
"Oh such a gentleman!" Hermione exclaimed, exaggerated, taking his hand. "But of course, my good sir."
Harry had a soft smile playing on his lips as they slowly danced to the waltz playing. Hermione looked stunning tonight, in her navy blue, flared gown. It was simple yet elegant.
Hermione smiled as her head rested on Harry's shoulder, her arms around his neck and his around her waist. She felt at peace. She felt… happy.
"You know, I've liked you for a long time," Harry said, his voice quiet yet clear amid the loud voices of the people.
"I should've known. Maybe I am oblivious when it comes to others' feelings about me."
"Don't blame yourself, Hermione. We're together now. That's all that matters," he said as they swayed to the music. Like they had done a year ago, in the tent. But now, it was a happier time, in a new age.
"That's all that matters." Hermione echoed Harry's words as she looked up at him.
The song was coming to an end. She stood on her toes, reaching up to Harry's height. His smile looked cute, but didn't it always? His glasses stood crooked on his nose. She found that endearing.
Harry was dazed by her words. Her eyes. And her lips. The necklace he had given her, glittered in the light of the ballroom, matching the shine in her eyes.
He bent down a bit, his lips meeting hers tenderly. It was a kiss full of love. It was a kiss of passion. To be honest, it was the best kiss either of the lovebirds had ever had.
Love is an art. Happy Valentine's Day.