Chapter Text
"No man can be friends with a woman he finds attractive."
-When Harry Met Sally, Norah Ephron
Friday, December 7th, 2007
“Seamus said he doesn’t believe nothing has ever happened between us.”
Hermione’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. There was a pause before she made a sound between a scoff and a snort as she took another sip of beer.
“Well Seamus can believe whatever he likes.”
Harry grinned. “I think that’s pretty much his life motto at this point.”
She rolled her eyes, taking another sip before placing the bottle down on the coffee table and stretching her arms above her head. “Maybe he should have married Luna before Ron did.”
Harry shrugged, but his grin grew wider at the mental image.
It was getting late, they’d consumed several bottles of ale, and were marathoning Fawlty Towers.
“He also said he doesn’t believe men and women can be friends.”
Hermione turned, her gaze piercing even with the glassy sheen of alcohol. It never ceased to amuse him how much of a lightweight she was. Her tongue becoming both looser and sharper with every bottle. “Why is that exactly?”
Harry took a swig of his drink.
“He said “the sex part” always gets in the way?”
If it were possible, he was sure her eyes would roll out of her head. “That’s ridiculous. It’s not that hard to just not have sex with people.”
“That’s what I said.”
Hermione nodded as she reached over to grab her drink again. Harry saw her wobble at the edge of the sofa, and grabbed onto her knee to steady her. Hermione may be articulate while drinking, however her coordination went out the window.
She didn’t react to her near fall, only took another drink while muttering. “Yes, keep your clothing on. Done.”
Recognizing her tone, he couldn’t help goading her. “Well…you can have sex without getting undressed.” She shot him an annoyed look and all at once he realised his hand was still on her leg, and he quickly removed it. Hermione made a half-hearted attempt to throw the sofa cushion at him, but he caught it easily as she huffed.
“You’re almost as bad as him.”
He pretended to look wounded, covering his heart with the cushion. “Hmm I think I’m a little more enlightened than Seamus.”
“That’s a low bar.”
He had to agree with that. His old classmate, now a casual quidditch teammate, had a pretty terrible track record with life in general. “True. Still, I tried to argue with him.
“A pointless endeavour,” Hermione sighed, reaching over and trying to grab the cushion back. He didn’t yield his grip, and she shot him another annoyed look. He pulled out his wand and floated the cushion back to the armrest already knowing what she would do.
She gave him a satisfied smile as she lowered herself against it, her feet coming to rest against his legs. In a now practised motion, he pulled them onto his lap as he wrapped a hand around her socked foot. A position they only allowed themselves once they were several drinks deep into what had become their usual Friday night hang out. They both watched the television again. At the commercial break, Hermione’s voice undid the comfortable silence.
“Obviously you only have to mention us. We’ve managed to go seventeen years without shagging.”
Harry choked on his drink, and when he turned to look at her, the amusement in her eyes told him she’d timed that statement hoping for that exact reaction.
He wiped the liquid from his chin with his arm, debating if tickling her in retaliation was too childish. “I did mention that.”
“And?”
“Seamus said it doesn’t matter. The “sex part” still gets in the way,” he replied with a shrug, not wanting to further anger her by telling her just how suspicious Seamus was about them, and how little those words had swayed him. He leaned over Hermione’s legs to put his drink back down.
“How on earth does that make sense?” she asked.
“It doesn’t. But he insisted that if you’re close and are attracted to the person “it’s already out there.””
“What does that even mean?” She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing.
“No clue.” He didn’t. He’d found it was often best not to try to dig too deeply into Seamus’s views on things.
“Already out there?” she muttered, her eyebrows drawn again. “He makes it sound so… ominous.”
“Yeah like a giant sex monster waiting around the corner… or a terrifying disease.”
Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth, and his own grin threatened to break.
“Oh like a sexual disease that stalks male and female friendship,” she managed to say.
“Sounds very dangerous,” he replied as seriously as he could.
“I hope we don’t get infected.”
There was a beat before they both dissolved into hysterical laughter fuelled by the beer, exhaustion of a long work week, and the ridiculousness of their conversation. When they finally stopped, the show had started up again, but neither of them was paying much attention.
“What if people are gay?” In the dim light of the sitting room, he could see that she’d been mulling over what Seamus had said by the crease between her eyebrows.
“He said that’s the exemption.”
“It can’t be the only one. Let’s say you were both married to other people wouldn’t that exempt it?”
Harry shrugged. “He claims it doesn’t work that way. At least not as super close friends. Your spouse won’t understand why you need to be friends with another woman or so he says.”
“That’s preposterous!” she huffed, irritation written across her face. “When I was with Ron and you were with Ginny, we still saw each other loads.”
Hermione had a point. At the beginning, it was like that. The four of them had hung out at Grimmauld as they all helped pitch in with the extensive renovations to make it a less depressing place to live. There had been nights of collapsing on the sofa and eating pizza and introducing the Weasley’s to Muggle movies. Things were never quite what he would call peaceful between Ron and Hermione, who seemed to do the best job of getting on each other’s last nerve. He and Ginny had more than once sat awkwardly through an argument that had clearly been simmering long before they witnessed it. It had taken two years of on and off again madness for them to call it off for good.
As for his relationship with Ginny—it had been good at the start. While both passionate, they hadn’t argued fiercely in the way their friends had. It was a quieter struggle. The things he didn’t know how to say to her slowly building a wall between them: the war, his time on the run, his death and return. For her part, Ginny didn’t seem to want to know. She had her own walls up. As the years wore on, the distance grew as their walls made it impossible to reach one another. Before he knew it, they were on opposite sides of a great divide. The distance only widening as they ended up not only apart from each other emotionally, but physically. Opposite sites of the globe to be exact. Ginny had signed on with the Harpies, and then the English team coming home less and less frequently until their relationship had been long distance for over two years.
Hermione was still looking at him expectantly. He nodded, though his gut told him that whatever that situation had been, a group of young friends who happened to be dating one another, was different than being married.
“That’s true.”
She looked triumphant as she took another drink.
“He brought up our Fridays."
“What do our Fridays have to do with anything?”
Harry tried to think of what to say. The two of them had always been close—that was an undeniable fact. However this year had been the first time they’d both been unattached at the same time since Hogwarts. It had always felt normal to spend time alone with Hermione, but the Friday evening routine they shared, had only really come about in the last six months. After a particularly disastrous first date, Hermione had turned up at Grimmauld Place with an obscene amount of Thai take away. Harry had pulled the six pack of pumpkin ale from the fridge, and they’d spent the rest of the evening venting, lounging, drinking, and watching television. The hang outs continued in that vein.
They rarely missed a Friday now.
Hermione jostled his hand with her foot, and he finally turned to look at her face. Her expression indicated that she wanted an answer. Harry sighed and grabbed her foot in his hand and squeezed gently. “He said when we get serious with other people, they won’t like it.”
There was a flash of surprise before she started chewing on her lip. “I’m not sure that’s true.” Her tone lacked its usual certainty.
Neither of them spoke for a long moment as the laugh soundtrack became the only thing that filled the room, as if it was a joke at their expense. Despite not voicing it out loud, the past seeped in. Both their histories were littered with jealous exes.
Hermione gasped and pulled her foot free. She sat up and Harry focused on her face that had the triumphant look that she wore when she was onto something. “What if you’re not attracted to the person?”
He shrugged, he fiddled with the label on his bottle instead of looking at her. “According to Seamus it doesn’t matter because you basically want to shag them too.”
“That’s not true…is it?” she asked, sounding mildly horrified.
He couldn’t help grinning. “Well maybe for someone like Seamus.”
Hermione bit back a smile before she sat back once more on the cushion, readjusting herself. ”Yes thank god you have standards. Most of the time.”
At that he grabbed her foot that was once more in his reach and tickled it lightly which made her cry out and attempt to kick him. He was quicker even with only one hand free, and kept a firm but gentle grip as he repositioned her feet in his lap. She huffed and crossed her arms, though the smile pulling up at the corner of her mouth told him she didn’t mind.
“Well lucky for us we don’t have that issue,” she said off handedly.
“Which issue?”
“Attraction.”
His head swivelved so fast, unsure if it was the alcohol that was making this conversation so hard to follow, or just Hermione’s mind jumping around faster than his. “Wait what?”
Hermione shrugged. “You aren’t attracted to me in that way. I’m not your type.”
“What?”
At that she gave him a look, the same one from when they were twelve years and she thought he was being an idiot. They stared at one another. He knew she was wrong and that was so rare the temptation to be right made him itch. Yet he also felt anxiety fill his stomach. How would he even go about explaining that if he wasn’t attracted to her—he wouldn’t have noticed the way her breasts were more visible right now with her arms crossed in that tank top.
Or that he’d also very much noticed her lack of bra that evening. Just because he kept his thoughts to himself, didn't mean he didn't notice. But his curiosity got the better of him.
“What’s my type then? As you’re apparently also an expert on this subject.”
She exhaled loudly, undoing her hair out of the messy bun, her movements less graceful in her state of inbreation and annoyance. “I don’t know exactly... Just—More outgoing. Pretty. Sporty. Fun. Popular.”
“Popular?”
Hermione gave him another pointed look. One made more fierce by her wild hair that was no longer contained. “You know what I mean.”
“I really don’t. It sounds more like you're describing one of those Muggle pop stars,” he said, grinning in spite of himself.
Her lip twitched. “Not quite.”
Harry looked down at the now empty bottle of beer in his hand. “Still not sure where you get that from. Do you want another one?” He asked, as he noted hers was finished. If they were going to talk about this he desperately needed another one.
“Hmm sure. It’s been a long week.” Harry extracted himself from the sofa and Hermione’s legs, and went to the kitchen.
When he re-entered the room, he stopped short. Hermione was leaning back against the arm rest, using it to brace her back against it to stretch. Something she did frequently to alleviate the pain in shoulders from always hunching over her desk. It was something he’d seen a million times—though usually he saw it more out of his peripheral vision when they watched television.
This time he saw as her tank top rode up revealing more of her stomach and something about the extra bit of skin made his own stomach flip uncomfortably. It also didn’t help that in the position her chest stuck out and he could clearly see the outline of her breast more prominently.
So, yeah he bloody noticed.
She pulled out of the stretch and gave him a happy unabashed smile, which for some reason only made his stomach twist further with a dose of guilt. Taking her in now it was even more obvious that she was tipsy, her eyes bright even in the dim room, hair tousled and her movement slower than usual.
He remained frozen in place, his mind suddenly muddled. Hermione’s face quickly became concerned. “Are you alright?”
Her words jarred him into moving forward. He handed her the bottle of beer and sat back down on the sofa.
Harry still felt a bit dazed when Hermione tapped her glass against his.
“Cheers,” she said quietly.
“Cheers,” he replied.
They both took a long pull from their drinks. The marathon had ended and a rerun of Holy Grail was now playing, though neither of them seemed to be focused on the television.
“Harry?”
He tilted his head to look at her properly. Her knees were pulled up under her chin. His arm rested behind her on the sofa, and he hadn’t realised how close they’d gotten.
“You want to find a long term partner soon right?”
He leaned back in surprise. “Er—yeah. I guess at some point…why?”
“I’ve been thinking. I know I’m not an expert on your love life—”
“Hermione, I was only joking—”
“I know,” she replied, cutting off his apology and biting her lip. “It’s just—I was thinking it over and I think I’m in a unique position. I’ve had a front row seat to your love life since we were teenagers.”
"Yeah…you have.” He fought the urge to cringe at the mention of his teenage self and girls.
“Yes, so…I was thinking. I have an idea of what you like. What your history and patterns say about it.”
“Patterns?”
“Yes, patterns.” Hermione continued matter of factly, as if they were discussing a new policy at the Ministry, or she was explaining a transfiguration assignment back at school. “What your past says about what you’re looking for.”
“What I’m looking for?”
“Yes. In a partner. You simply have to look at what you’ve gravitated towards in the past.”
At his blank look, she sighed.
“Do I really have to start listing them?” She didn’t give him more than a few seconds before she launched in. Using her fingers she began to his horror and bemusement, he wasn’t quite sure, to list his ex-girlfriends. “Cho even if it was brief. Ginny. And Ginny again. Laura. Maisy. Diane. Erin..…Emma and then... Gemma.” Rolling her eyes as she had thought it was ridiculous that two girls he saw back to back had rhyming names.
“Gemma was never my girlfriend,” he told her, shaking his head. Hermione was right about the rest, he had technically dated all of those girls for at least a few months, except for Cho and Gemma.
The set of her mouth told him she didn’t believe it. “Not according to the tabloids.”
Harry sighed, taking a long sip. “Why would you ever believe a word of that rubbish?”
Hermione shrugged, but her eyes had moved back to her knees. “Well sometimes where there’s smoke there’s fire,” she muttered.
“I would say if that were true you and I would have dated more times than either of us have tried to date a Weasley.”
Hermione managed to look a bit chagrined, her cheeks flushing pink, and Harry smiled at being right. His best friend was brilliant, so it was extra satisfying the occasional time he bested her.
He nudged her. “Just last month there was an article when I took you to the Halloween ball. Have you conveniently forgotten that bit?”
Hermione crinkled her nose at admitting he was right, but the spark in her eyes told him it was mostly for show. “Fine. I take it back. I’m glad she wasn’t your girlfriend.”
“Jealous?” He asked, his leg nudging hers again.
She rolled her eyes, finally moving her legs back down and reaching over to the coffee table for her drink. “I think it was her. She hated my guts.”
“Yeah…that was part of the problem.”
Hermione frowned. “Really?”
Harry wiped a hand across his face and took a steadying breath. “I can’t date someone if they don’t like you.”
Hermione's mouth formed into a surprise oh, but the sound barely registered. The silence that followed filled only with the sound of an absurd film that neither of them were paying much mind.
Eventually Hermione nodded absently, a look of guilt flashing across her face. “That will…that will shrink your pond a bit.”
“My what?”
Hermione sighed. ”Have you ever heard the expression big fish in a small pond?”
“Er—I dunno.”
“I suppose it doesn’t really fit here.” She bit her lip. Hermione was definitely drunk at this point as she usually didn’t lose her train of thought easily.
“Alright, I’ll re-work it. At Hogwarts you were well known the entire time we were there and by our sixth year you were quite the catch.” His face heated at her words. “Except that pond was limited in that there were only so many girls that you could date.…well that and you were dealing with a dark lord trying to kill you.”
“As one does.”
“Yes,” she said, barely containing a knowing smile. “Anyways I’d hoped for you it would help when we left Hogwarts—that you would have even more choices at least once you and Ginny didn’t work out. That—that while you would still be famous of course—that at least it would be a wider world with less of a microscope on you. I suppose since I’m already mixing metaphors…that there would be plenty of fish in the sea for you.”
“I’m confused, is this a pond, or a sea?”
“Shut up Harry, I’m thinking.” She chewed on her lip thoughtfully. “Right, it’s also not I suppose for lack of choice.”
Harry grimaced. “Yeah…the opposite.”
“Are you still receiving fan letters?” She asked,
He nodded. “Most days.” Fan mail was something he should be used to by now. He had a system and most of it didn’t get past the security and vetting system he’d set up with Hermione’s help, although some did get through. There was always an uptick when he was in the headlines. Particularly when an article insinuated that he was single. Harry did his best to avoid thinking about it.
“Any more howlers?”
Harry nodded, sighing heavily. The howlers were new. Some strange tactic to attempt to seduce him with orgasmic moaning that would reverberate through his kitchen.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Same person?”
“I have no idea. I always set them on fire,” he replied, taking another deep drink, polishing off the bottle. “So yeah you’re right. I need to weed out the people who like me only because I’m Harry Potter, the ones that are totally mentally unstable, and the ones who can’t accept our friendship.”
Hermione hummed thoughtfully. “That’s why I brought it up. If you need more support, or someone to talk to about these things with. Perhaps give you the female perspective?
Harry snorted. “Don’t you already do that? Also, are you offering to vet my choices?”
She rolled her eyes and let out a huff. “Not exactly just… if you are unsure of something you know you can talk to me right? If you need help focusing on what you want in a future partner. I know you, Harry, I can try and help.” She nudged him as a smile tugged at her lips. “It also makes sense if I get along with her…it would likely be a good sign that you found the right fish.”
He smiled. “Okay drunk pants. I know you’ve had too much to drink now that you are referring to women as fish. You are clearly drunk as a fish yourself.” She smacked his chest and he caught her hand and she stuck out her tongue and muttered about his reflexes.
“Now you’re mixing your similes. It’s drunk as skunk. You’re thinking of drinking like a fish,” she said.
“I think a drunk otter fits you better. Maybe even a seal. You do love the water.”
She groaned and she moved away from him to lay back down on the sofa. “That’s enough for now.”
Her feet pushed against his leg and he moved them back to their usual position. Warm and light from the alcohol and ridiculousness of their conversation. “Yeah. Whoever she ends up being would definitely need the Hermione Granger ‘seal’ of approval.”
“No more animal talk.”
“Deal,” he replied with a grin. They stayed there for a while, and Harry tried to focus on the film but his mind wandered. Dating for him had never been straightforward. The simplest relationship he ever had was with Ginny before the war…though with time he’d realised that even without it, they likely never would have worked out. He wished it was easier and that he wasn’t still totally crap at all of that. It was hard not to wonder if he would ever find it—how he would know when he had.
“Do you suppose you just know when you find it? Or is it more like maths…and you have to figure it out?” he blurted out.
He looked over to her, her eyes had closed and for a split second he thought maybe she’d fallen asleep on him. It had happened before.
“I think I’ll know it when I find it,” she eventually said, so quietly he barely heard her over the singing on the television.
He looked down at her white socked feet in his lap, unsure why her words settled in his stomach like stones. If he was letting Seamus’s stupid comments about whatever ‘bloke Hermione ends up with not tolerating their “cosy” hang outs.’ The truth was that Friday had quickly become his favourite day of the week. He didn’t want to hold her back. He also didn’t want to let her go. It was something he didn’t let himself think about too much.
Harry used his free hand to wrap it around her foot. “That’s not very scientific.” He tried to tease, but his voice was rougher than he expected.
Hermione cracked an eye open and smiled. She sat up slightly and gave a lazy stretch. Harry immediately averted his gaze, as it hadn’t annoyingly gone right to the exposed skin of her stomach again.
“It’s not.”
At her words, he looked at her once more, and she had a thoughtful expression on her face. “But it’s what I want. Someone with a good heart. Someone who sees all of me, even the not so nice bits, and loves them anyways.”
He nodded in agreement.
“Yeah. That’s what you should have.” He meant to say it lightly, but the words seemed weighted in his mouth. She beamed at him all the same, and he felt a clenching in his chest. It was true. She deserved nothing less.
Once more Harry looked at his hand wrapped around her foot and gave it another squeeze. Strangely having to remind himself to breathe. “Don’t forget… also them being, really, really, really, ridiculously good looking.”
The sound of her laugh pulled his attention back, and he grinned as he saw that she’d thrown her head back and was clutching her stomach. He wasn’t sure when it had started, but that had become one of their favourite quotes to throw around.
When they both managed to stop laughing, she shrugged before reaching for her drink and taking a long sip. “I suppose that doesn’t hurt.”
“A nice bonus.”
“Indeed,” she replied, biting back more laughter.
“Also what you said. Er—I guess that all sounds good I mean. That’s what I want,” he said, trying not to cringe at how inarticulate he sounded. She smiled and he couldn’t help adding. “That or I’ll just die alone.”
Hermione kicked at his hand lightly. “Oh hush. That’s not going to happen.”
“It technically already has.”
“Harry, you know I hate when you joke about that.”
“I know, sorry.” He finished off the last bit of beer and leaned over her legs to put it on the table. He was definitely feeling the effects, the loosening of his tongue that seemed to happen mostly when he was with her. “Hopefully your ridiculously good looking future husband won’t mind your sad lonely friend coming around.”
“If he does. He isn’t the right person for me,” she sighed, pressing her hands into her eyes and shaking her head. Also clearly feeling the effects of all their drinking. “It’s not as if I’m doing any better than you on that front. The last year has had me regularly debating if maybe spinsterhood might suit me permanently.”
“We can be lonely old people together,” he suggested and she nodded in agreement.
“Deal. We’ll harass Teddy’s future family.”
He reached over, taking her outstretched hand and they shook on it. As they settled back in their seats, the thought crossed his mind and to his own shock he said it outloud. “We could always marry each other if it comes to it.”
The look on her face made him want to laugh.
“What!?” she spluttered.
“I...I dunno. If neither of us get married by a certain age,” he replied, still unsure what the hell he was saying. The more he thought it over, the more it strangely made sense.
Her eyebrows that had shot up like a rocket at what he’d said, drew together as she studied him.
“Do you think it will come to that?” she asked, dismayed.
Harry shrugged. “Unlikely. I guess you just never know.”
There was a long pause while Hermione continued to stare at him with disbelief, before a surprised laugh escaped her. “That is probably the least romantic proposal in all of human history. “
Harry felt a wave of relief that she was laughing and grinned. “I’ll work on it.”
It took her a moment to catch her breath. “Honestly, I don’t think you’ll have much luck with anyone if you don’t.”
He kneaded her foot in the way she liked. Her insistence at wearing heels at work made no sense to him. “Doesn’t being this year's most eligible bachelor provide an exemption?”
Hermione gave a relieved sigh at his ministrations, her eyes fluttering closed again. She shook her head against the cushion. “No it doesn’t. You can’t get by on looks alone. Besides, they will fade, especially if it’s long enough in the future that you have to marry me out of desperation.”
“Ouch. Making me desperate and ugly. Good thing I’m also rich and famous.”
She kept her eyes closed, but stuck out her tongue which looked extremely silly.
“Any pointers on how to make it better?” he asked.
Hermione pursed her lips. “Well first and foremost don’t ask in the same tone you ask what kind of pizza we should order.”
“Noted.”
“Let’s also hope you actually get to propose to someone you love.”
“But I do love you,” he teased. Her eyes blinked open, and she gave him a sleepy smile.
“You know what I mean,” she said, her tone warm.
“Yeah, yeah. I know,” he said, smiling at her.
She tilted her head to the side, her smile growing. “Yes, hopefully someone you’ve actually shagged.”
He shook his head in amusement and disbelief. “You’ve been talking an awful lot about shagging tonight."
“You brought it up, or Seamus did I suppose,” she replied off handedly.
“Yeah he did. He was being a bit of a bastard about it actually.”
A weary look passed over her features. “What did he say?”
Harry hesitated, his hands stilling as they looked at one another. He swallowed, unsure why this part felt harder to joke about.
“Harry…”
He sighed, even sleepy and drunk Hermione wasn’t going to drop it until he came clean. “He just brought up the usual rumours.”
Recognition flashed in her eyes and it took all his will power not to look away. Neither Harry and Hermione were strangers to being a part of the rumour mill in the Magical world. This rumour in particular had been around in some capacity since he defeated Voldemort. Ideas spread about how he could have done it. Word had gotten around that it had been the two of them alone for months, people made up things trying to fill in the blanks. It didn’t help that the Golden Trio had stayed rather mum, only giving the barebones story to Kingsley and the authorities which was filtered to the public through journalists. Some with integrity, some without.
There was one rumour in particular that refused to die. That was taken as fact by most of the Wizarding population.
“Oh,” Hermione breathed.
Harry nodded. Not having anything else he could add. She fidgeted with her gold necklace, chewing her bottom lip. He let his eyes flicker to the television, he hadn’t been paying attention for so long that the film was nearly over.
A heavy sigh from Hermione brought his focus back on her. She was still anxiously moving the chain on her neck. Their eyes met. “It’s silly. I don’t know why people can’t wrap their minds around that not being true,” she said softly.
Again guilt washed over him. He knew those rumours affected her more than it did him. The two of them had been plagued with other people’s projections about their relationship since before they were even adults. Over the years the speculation had come and gone, mostly in part due to their relationship statuses—though they never fell away entirely. In recent months they’d seemed to pick up steam once more with the approaching ten year anniversary, especially with both of them being unattached at the moment.
Hermione stared at her lap, and he could see the anxiety in the set of her shoulders. He shouldn’t have brought it up. It always upset her. The public also seemed to find it easier to be cruel to her and lay any blame for their “on again off” relationship at her feet.
He reached over and took her hand in his. “We can’t let it bother us.”
She nodded, still chewing her full lower lip when her dark eyes met his. “Do you think that’s why Seamus brought it up?” she whispered.
He squeezed her hand. “Unfortunately that’s likely it, he was being a prick. I’ll tell him off more next week. I promise.”
Hermione hummed in agreement, but he still felt the tremble in her arm. He squeezed her hand once more before moving his hand to her knee as she settled back on the cushion and exhaled deeply.
They sat in the quiet room, exhaustion seeming to catch them both off guard all at once. Hermione’s tired voice eventually broke the silence. “Next Wednesday just tell him that unlike him, you don’t hump everything that moves.”
Harry’s head rolled back against the back of the sofa to take her in and was relieved to see a smile on her face. “Noted.”
“Also tell him those rumours are bollocks and that his exemptions are illogical, and frankly sexist.”
“I will.”
“Good. Also that his theory in not scientifically proven or rigorous—”
“Hermione. I’ll tell him off I promise,” he said with a laugh. She would go from exhausted to righteous in the blink of an eye.
Hermione hummed in agreement. “Good,” she repeated. “You may as well add in that there’s no attraction between us.”
Harry had opened his mouth and promptly closed it. “Right…”
They stared at one another in the dim room, and Harry felt a strange jolt as a memory flitted in his head as Hermione turned her eyes away from him. The dance. It skittered much too close to the rumours to be comfortable.
All of a sudden he became hyper aware of the warmth of her leg underneath his palm. Her lower leg and feet draped across him. He’d ended up closer to her than expected when he’d taken her hand in his.
He felt the words surge up his throat involuntarily. “There isn’t?”
Hermione looked bewildered at his question. She blinked slowly at him. “Isn’t what?”
The two of them remained frozen in place. “Attraction,” he said, which didn't seem to register as she continued to look at him strangely. “Er—between us.”
“Oh.”
He swallowed, unable to bear the silence a second longer. “You’ve never thought about it?”
Hermione looked at him wide eyed. “I—um. I don’t know. I—have you?”
Once more the moment where he’d had his hand on her waist, their eyes locked mid dance barreled through his mind.
He breathed in and looked back down at his hands on her, wishing he had a drink, anything to do with his hands other than rest them on her ankles.
“I’m not sure….not er—that I can think of,” he bit down on his tongue as the lie passed his lip.
“So there it is,” she said quietly. “We aren’t attracted to each other.”
His head shot up at her declaration. “I didn’t say that.”
Once more they stood still as statues, and Harry was finding the room unbearably hot despite the winter storm outside.
Hermione’s face creased in confusion. “What are you saying? You just said that you didn’t.”
He suppressed a groan, mostly at himself. “I—I said that I don’t—” He tried to gather his thoughts as Hermione's gaze lingered on him. “I…I don’t sit around thinking deeply about it.. But—I mean. Yeah. I find you attractive.”
Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise, almost comically, though for some reason this conversation didn’t strike him as funny all of a sudden.
“You think I’m conventionally attractive, you mean?”
“Yeah… I guess.”
He saw the flash of hurt in her wide brown eyes. He swallowed a curse as he realised how that sounded.
“I mean... I—I just haven’t stopped and thought about it much. You’re Hermione. But yes. You’re attractive. You’re er—pretty…very pretty” he trailed off, knowing his cheeks would be bright red with embarrassment. All of a sudden feeling all of fourteen again.
He made himself keep his eyes on her face, and it was reassuring when he saw her smile, how it lit up her entire face.
She released a drunken giggle that she tried to cover with her hand. “Great observation Harry.”
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “It’s a part of my job.”
“Noticing if people are attractive?”
“Yeah. It’s in the job training after identifying cursed objects.”
They grinned at one another.
He tapped her ankle, unable to resist turning the tables a bit. “So I am guessing you don’t think I’m attractive.
“Are you wanting some reassurance? Didn’t you just remind me that you were this year's most eligible bachelor?”
He gave her a smirk. “Well if I remember correctly you once had a thing for wizards on that list.”
She lightly kicked him, but his reflexes were faster and his grip stronger, he easily caught her foot. Hermione never liked being reminded of the fact that she’d once had a crush on Lockhart, and got annoyed when he teased her about Krum.
“You’re the worst,” she huffed, glaring at him. It might have been more intimidating if her eyes weren’t glassy and her hair mused from laying down.
“Yet you still spend your Fridays with me. And have lunch with me at least twice a week. You also still haven’t answered the question.”
Hermione sighed. “Yes Harry, you’re very handsome. There. Happy?”
Harry grinned. “Very.”
“All this does is further prove that lunatic theory wrong,” she replied, with only some of the heat from earlier about Seamus’s stupid comments.
“It does?”
She nodded lazily against the cushion before suppressing a yawn. “Yes. We both agree the other one is attractive, and we still have managed not to shag each other senseless.”
Her words hit him unexpectedly. Warmth spreading throughout his limbs, heating his entire body quickly.
“Right,” he managed to choke out.
"Unless you believe some of the insane things people have said.”
His brain was overwhelmed with the sensation he was fighting that it took him a moment to catch up. The rumour they tiptoed around the most.
He sucked in a breath. “I’m assuming you're talking about the soul bond.”
She nodded, one more chewing on her lower lip that was now bright red from her anxious attention.
“Hmm. Yeah… it’s something,” he said quietly.
The bloody soul bond ritual. There had been an abundance of speculation at how Harry had survived the killing curse a second time. An anonymous Unspeakable had penned an article in the paper describing a ritual that included how a soul bond may have been used to save his life. It hadn’t mattered that they’d denied it, or that Kingsley had. The rumour spread. Widely . Within weeks people were discussing who it possibly could be with. It hadn’t taken long for the finger to be pointed at Hermione.
Ron and Ginny for their part had handled it in stride. Yet it was something both Harry and Hermione had often had to explain and assure other prospects; that there was no validity to these claims. Something that was sometimes easier said than done. Harry knew that the implications had, as always, caused more complications for Hermione. Whenever she moved up in her career there were whispers of her connection to Harry. Favoured treatment. It inflamed him. Hermione was the hardest working person he knew. She worked twice as hard and still people refused to give her credit. There was also her love life that had been impacted. He saw the pinched expression, the set of her mouth and faraway look that told him she was thinking it over more deeply than she should in her state and at this hour.
“Are you alright?” he asked gently, swiping his thumb over her knee to get her attention back.
She looked up at him dazed before nodding absently. As they looked at each other he found himself holding his breath. They so rarely talked about this despite how much mental space it had taken up for both of them over the years.
Like a virus the rumour had mutated into others. Everything from various secret love children over the years, to Hermione breaking his heart when she briefly dated Neville, to other ridiculous speculation.
“I looked into it again recently," she whispered.
“Why?”
Hermione shrugged. “I—I still had questions,” her eyes met his directly. “I wanted to know if it would have worked.”
All at once he seemed to have sobered up completely.
“Would it have worked?” he asked, voice hoarse.
Harry knew the answer before she spoke. It was in her eyes as they filled with tears. “It likely would have added another layer of protection. You wouldn’t have had to walk into the forest by yourself… thinking there was no chance you’d survive.”
“Hermione,” he breathed as her lovely features collapsed, tears spilling down her cheeks. He knew that day was still one of the hardest for her. Even all these years later.
She shook her head, but he didn’t miss the way her breathing hitched and she covered her eyes with her hands. It took a moment to untangle himself from her legs so that he could move closer, pulling her onto his lap. Over the years he’d learned the importance of getting ahead of calming her down, before it could escalate into a panic attack. Hermione buried her face in his shoulder as he held her. He rubbed a hand up her back, reminding her to breathe with him.
“I’m sorry I brought it up,” he whispered when he felt her breathing start to even out again.
“It’s alright. I—it’s been on my mind,” she mumbled.
He held her closer. It was likely that bloody book they were releasing in January that was also making everything worse. There was no need to bring it up, they were both thinking of it already. Rita Skeeter had wormed her way into writing a book about the war and aftermath. They were both holding their breath and bracing themselves for the ways she would twist the information like she always did, to paint them in a negative light—an inaccurate one. Harry had already met with a solicitor to try and get ahead of the matter, but it was little use.
“I would have," she murmured, tracing a finger over his heart.
He barely heard her as she spoke into the material of his t-shirt.
He looked down at her. “What?”
Her eyes moved up to meet his, large brown eyes glassy and red rimmed, yet determined. “I would have done it.”
All at once it hit him and his lips parted in shock at what she was saying.
“You—you would?”
“Yes," she said with utter conviction.
“You’d have bonded your soul to mine. Permanently.”
She nodded. Harry was certain he’d stopped breathing at her words. The overwhelming emotion made it hard to think, or do anything except stare at her.
Her voice trembled, but her hand pressed firmly into his chest, over his heart. “I’d have done anything Harry. Anything to still have you here.”
He felt his own body shake with the enormity of that kind of sacrifice. At the utter selflessness of his best friend. That Hermione, who had already made countless sacrifices, would have given her soul over to him. No words came to him as he held her closer and pressed a kiss to her temple.
They sat there for an indeterminate amount of time, breathing growing deeper. Harry could feel her exhaustion as if it was his own.
“You’re amazing. You know that right?” He eventually managed to murmur into her hair.
He felt her smile against him. Her voice was faint, yet her reply was filled with her usual vigour. “Don’t tell Seamus about this. It will only goad him further.”
Harry laughed tiredly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
His mind was too overwhelmed with the weight of their conversation, with the emotions it brought up. His need for sleep and the lingering effects of the multiple beers he’d drank caused him to simply continue sitting there with her on his lap.
Soon enough Hermione fell asleep against him. Eventually he harnessed the willpower to move off the sofa, carrying her to the guest bedroom. He didn’t let himself think about how right it felt to have her in his arms as he moved through his home, that it always felt fuller when she was in it.