Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

Chapter 10 The Flaming Incantation

Harry and Hermione apparated to London's Leaky Cauldron immediately after classes ended on Friday. It was the first time they had spent any time together all week, which irked Harry markedly. He'd developed the distinct impression Hermione was avoiding him. Every time he tried to talk to her she said, "Not now Harry. We will talk about it later." What "it" was, Harry wasn't even sure. He somehow thought "it" was entirely different from the incident with Snape at the lake.

In spite of himself, when Harry thought about their time at the lake, which had been happening at random times all week, he started smiling. He would be walking down a corridor or eating breakfast or even refereeing a Quidditch scrimmage and find himself grinning from ear to ear. He was sure some of his students thought he had gone quite mad. And he was sure they were quite right.

Harry couldn't stop focusing on the fact that Hermione showed no real desire for him to remove his head from her lap. Instead, she played with his hair, which was something he loved. As small as it was, this innocent gesture was wholly responsible for Harry's grin. He tried to focus on that as much as possible and push her ensuing comment out of his mind.

"I know what you are doing, Harry."

This statement, coupled with her distant behavior all week, caused Harry much consternation. On the one hand, Harry interpreted the statement, along with the invitation to London, as a good sign: an indication of her knowledge of his affection and that it was returned in kind. But on the other hand, she had obviously been avoiding him all week. In Harry's mind, her actions and her behavior were contradictory. As a result, he was left not quite knowing what to think.

At one point of desperation on Wednesday night, he had decided that he was going to go to the castle, march right up to her room and ask her what was going on. Right after he planted a passionate kiss on her.

Not a good idea, mate, Ron's voice chastised.

Why not? I'll have my answer, and I'll finally get to kiss her.

Well, first off, you know she has never thought of you in any way other than as a friend. Probably, she is avoiding you because she is trying to get used to the idea of you being something more. Not to mention the fact that she isn't over me.

You had to bring that up, didn't you?

It's all I have left. Being dead has no perks.

I imagine not.

If you go rushing up there like some sex maniac, she is going to go running, screaming into the Forbidden Forest. Any chance you have will be gone. As much as you don't want to admit it, she's in control here, mate. You have to give her time.

You're right, you're right. I know you're right.

So Harry clung to the possibility that her avoidance of him was linked to the fact that she did fancy him and was getting used to the idea. As a result, he focused on their trip to London and how to make the most of his time alone with her.

Sitting in a booth at the Leaky Cauldron, surrounded by the remnants of their late lunch, Harry watched Hermione review a piece of parchment that contained the ABMB agenda for later today. A strand of her hair that had been tucked behind her ear fell down, obscuring her face. Without thinking, Harry leaned across the table and pushed it back.

Hermione started and looked at Harry who was trying, without much success, to get her hair to stay put. He stopped, his hand hovering next to her cheek, fighting the urge trace her jaw line with his finger.

"Sorry," he said, reluctantly pulling his hand away. "It fell."

And I couldn't see your face.

"Thanks," she replied, repeating Harry's action with her hand and smoothing out her hair.

They looked at each other a moment longer and Harry felt it. Not the flip-flop of his stomach; he felt that every time he saw Hermione. Instead, he felt the stirrings of affection, the same emotions he was battling to control, coming from her when he looked in her eyes. He smiled at her and she looked back down at her parchment.

Relief soared through Harry, its wings beating in time with his heartbeat, causing it to thud loudly in his chest. It was all he could do to restrain himself from standing up, pumping his fist and shouting "YES!" Now her evasion of him for an entire week could only be viewed in a positive light, and Harry was absolutely silly with excitement. That particular question being answered led him to inquire as to the other mystery that had plagued him throughout the week.

"So do you want to talk about it now?" Harry asked.

Hermione froze, still looking down. "It? What?"

"I don't know. You tell me. Every time I've tried to talk to you this past week you said, 'Not now Harry. We'll talk about it later.' I've been dying to know what 'it' is!"

"Oh, nothing really. I just didn't want to add fuel to the fire of the Harry Potter Fan Club by being seen in deep conversation with you. They are quite upset with me, you know."

"Fan club? There isn't a Harry Potter Fan Club. Snape just said that because he's just...well, Snape."

Hermione looked at Harry with a mischievous grin on her face. "Yes, there is Harry. There has been a Harry Potter Fan Club since the Tri-wizard Tournament. It hasn't been as active for the last few years since no one really knew where you were or what you were doing. But since you have been back at Hogwarts its membership has soared, I assure you."

Harry was stunned, too stunned to speak. Hermione started laughing at him. "You should see the look on your face!"

"So what is the mission of the Harry Potter Fan Club?" Harry asked.

"These are teenage girls, Harry. There is no mission. Mainly they talk about how cute they think you are. The big mystery right now is where your glasses went. Did he get contacts? Is there a spell to fix nearsightedness? Did killing Voldemort make your vision return to normal when your scar went away? The theories are endless."

"Why don't they just ask me? I'll tell them," Harry said bemused.

"I seem to remember you asking me that same question about Cho. Apparently you've forgotten, Harry, girls don't usually just ask."

Harry kicked his feet up into the booth and leaned against the wall, processing all of this information, drumming his fingers on the table while Hermione was busy scribbling notes on her agenda. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "You seem to know a lot about the Harry Potter Fan Club. Are you the faculty liaison?"

Hermione laughed heartily, a bit too heartily for Harry's ego. "Don't be silly. It isn't a Hogwarts sponsored club. It is very clandestine; at least they think so."

"Were you a member when we were in school?" he asked cheekily.

Again, she laughed. "No, Harry! Why would I be? I was your best friend. I didn't need to be part of your fan club."

Hermione rolled up her agenda, placed it in her bag and began rummaging around for something else. In short order, she produced a small piece of parchment and laid it down on the table, revealing an itemized list entitled "Things To Do." Taking her wand, she tapped the top three items once and they disappeared, but not before Harry read "Apparate, Lunch, Agenda." He smiled, resisting the urge to tease her and listened intently when she began planning out their afternoon.

"The meeting is at 4 p.m. so we have a couple of hours still. I need to pick up some things. What do you need to do?" Hermione asked, leaning back and casually crossing her arms over her chest.

"Nothing. I just came to be with you." Harry said as he smiled and waved for the check to Tom the Innkeeper who was behind the bar.

"What?"

Harry looked at her quizzically. "What? I came to London to spend time with you without hundreds of students around watching our every move. That shouldn't be a huge revelation to you, Hermione." He looked up and smiled as Tom produced the check. "Thanks, Tom."

"Sure thing, Harry. Good to see you again!"

"You, too."

Harry returned his attention to Hermione, who was looking at him curiously. "I suppose the surprise is you being so direct about it." Her brows furrowed for a brief moment before she shook her head slightly and returned to rummaging through her bag. She pulled the ticket towards her and began counting out money to pay.

Harry put his hand over hers. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked incredulously.

"Paying for lunch."

"You most certainly are not!" he cried.

"Why not?"

"Because," he said, still restraining her hand while struggling with his other to pull his money bag out of his pocket. "I'm paying."

"No you are not!" she replied, attempting to pull her hand from his grasp.

Unbeknownst to themselves, while Hermione was struggling to free her hand and Harry was struggling with his pocket, the few early afternoon customers that were in the pub had all stopped what they were doing to stare at the humorous scene. Harry and Hermione, who by this time, were laughing at each other's struggles, realized slowly that they were causing a commotion and looked around, discovering the attention of the other patrons. They quickly withdrew their hands and Harry gave a slight shrug of his shoulders in defeat, saying, "Modern witches."

Tom shook his head and grinned, returning to his task of polishing the brass rail on the bar, and the other patrons returned reluctantly to their uneventful tankards of ale.

Harry heard Hermione mumble something like "I'll show you modern witches" while returning to her original task of counting out the correct change.

"What was that, Miss Granger?"

"Nothing at all."

Harry resumed his relaxed pose, throwing his feet into the seat of the booth and draping his arm on the table. "So, since you just paid for my lunch, I guess this is a date," he said, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I've been wondering about that all week."

"I hate to disappoint you, Harry, but this isn't a date," Hermione replied as she scooted out of the booth and rose from the table and walked towards the back of the pub to the entrance to Diagon Alley.

Harry bounded up from the booth and quickly caught up to her, gently grasping her elbow to guide her through the tables. "I believe it is a date, Professor. You asked me to come and then you paid for my lunch. Call me old fashioned but that, my dear, is a date."

Hermione stopped in front of the brick wall that disguised the entrance to Diagon Alley, pulled out her wand and turned to Harry. He stepped back reflexively, looking at her wand and wondering if his teasing had gone just a bit too far and she was about to make him pay. She looked from him to her wand and smiled, before turning to tap the appropriate bricks. She pocketed her wand as the bricks rearranged themselves and turned back to Harry.

"No. Actually, Harry, my paying for lunch means that you have to pay for drinks tonight after the meeting. I am getting off much cheaper than you are, trust me," she replied with a grin and walked through the archway.

It was no surprise to Harry that Hermione's first stop was Flourish and Blotts. Forty-five minutes, many items off the list and galleons later, they left with Harry loaded down with parcels.

"Is your goal to read every magical book ever written?" Harry asked juggling the packages.

"As a matter of fact...I only have 20,000 to go," Hermione laughed. "Let's go in here. I want to look for a new robe for the Yule Ball. I've worn the same one for the last two years."

"So?"

Hermione looked back at him as she opened the door to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, rolled her eyes and entered the shop. She immediately went to the women's dress robes section and started browsing. Harry found a chair at the back of the shop by the dressing rooms and plopped down after relieving himself of her packages.

Bored after five minutes, Harry got up and walked to where Hermione was inspecting a green robe.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"It's green."

"Very observant."

Harry looked at the rack and picked out a midnight blue robe. "What about blue?"

"Eh, I've already had a blue one," she said dismissively. "I'm looking for something different."

Remembering Hermione in her periwinkle blue robes at the first Yule Ball their fourth year, which was the first time that he had realized how pretty Hermione is, Harry mumbled, "You look really good in blue."

"What?"

"Just try on the blue one, please," he pleaded, placing his hands together in front of his chest.

"Oh, all right," she said, suppressing a smile, as she took four robes into the changing room.

Harry sat back down and waited. Five minutes, ten minutes...

How long does it take to try on a robe?

After 15 minutes, Hermione returned with the blue robe over her arm. "I liked the blue one best, too. Let's go."

"You aren't going to show me?" he asked her back as she retreated to the till to pay. "I picked it out and you aren't going to model it for me?"

"Don't be silly; we don't have time," she dismissed as she paid for the robe.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked looking at his watch. "We have 45 minutes."

"I thought we might go by Seamus' pub so you can see him before the meeting. I think you'll like his place."

Disgruntled, Harry loaded the packages back in his arms and followed Hermione out of the shop. Once outside, they started walking down Diagon Alley, which was getting more and more crowded as the afternoon wore on. Weaving their way through the crowd, Hermione started filling Harry in on Seamus' pub.

"It's called the Green Irishman. It's very popular with the younger crowd. I expect it will be packed tonight. Friday night is 'Butterbeer Special Night.' Fred and George usually stop by after they close the shop, so we might run into them after the meeting."

Hermione prattled on about Seamus' pub when they turned into an alleyway and stopped in front of a door. Hanging above the door was a wooden sign with the word "Irishman" painted in green. Hermione was looking at him expectantly as if he was being shown something important.

He looked back at the sign and understanding flooded his face. "Clever," he said honestly.

Looking pleased, Hermione opened the stout wooden door and entered the pub. Harry walked inside and was bombarded with green. Green walls, green upholstered stools and booths, even the wood floor was painted a deep kelly green. Harry looked up at the ceiling and was amazed to see a field of green clover somehow growing down from the rafters.

"Subtle," Harry murmured as he followed Hermione to the bar.

"Hermione!" Seamus called from the far corner of the bar that ran the length of one wall.

"Hi, Seamus!"

Seamus threw the towel he was using over his shoulder and walked toward them with his arms open to give Hermione a big hug.

"Hey stranger! We've missed you! Where have you been?" Seamus asked.

"Oh, you know me. Keeping busy. This is my first trip to London in months. You know I wouldn't come to town without stopping to see you."

"You'd better not. Fiona would never forgive you." It was then that he looked over Hermione's shoulder and saw Harry standing there loaded down with packages.

"Harry Potter! Great to see you! Where the bloody hell have you been for five years?" he laughed, relieving Harry of Hermione's purchases.

Harry smiled as Seamus shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder. "Get right to the point, don't you Seamus?"

"Who has time for chit-chat?" he asked good-naturedly. "Hey, Fi! Look who's here!"

Harry looked towards the bar to see a petite blond-haired woman coming through the door to what Harry assumed was the storage room. "Hermione!" she shrieked, and to Harry's astonishment, jumped over the counter.

Seeing the look on Harry's face, Seamus said, "Don't be fooled by her size. She has more athletic ability in her pinkie than I could even dream about having. She was a gymnast before going to school. Gave it up when she got her letter from Beauxbatons."

"Who is she?" Harry asked.

"That, my friend, is the best thing that ever happened to me! She's my wife."

Harry watched Hermione and Fiona chat and giggle like long lost friends. He looked at Seamus and said, "Congratulations. I'm sure she's too good for you."

"That goes without saying," Seamus replied laughing. "Come on, let me buy you a butterbeer and you can tell me what you've been doing since Hogwarts."

Seamus led Harry over to Fiona and introduced them. "Nice to finally meet you, Harry. I've heard so much about you from Seamus and Hermione."

"Only the good parts are true," Harry said laughing and shaking her hand.

"Naturally."

"Are you ready, Fiona?" Hermione asked.

"Right. Yes. Let me grab my cloak," she said as she untied the apron around her waist and retreated into the back room.

Hermione turned to Harry. "Fiona and I are going to the board meeting. We should be about an hour to an hour and a half. You are welcome to come, but you might be bored. I thought you might rather stay here and catch up with Seamus."

Relief flooded Harry. He wanted to come to London to spend time with Hermione, but wasn't too keen on sitting in a board meeting for hours. "Alright then. I'll be here when you get back."

Hermione smiled at him and his stomach did a flip-flop. Maybe he could sit through a boring meeting, after all...

Fiona came breezing back through the pub and, after giving Seamus a swift kiss and last minute instructions on what needed to be done to ready the place for business tonight, she and Hermione left, chatting animatedly.

"Seamus, how did you meet Fiona?"

"Well, now, that's an interesting story. Hermione introduced us while she and I were dating. She met Fiona at an ABMB training course and they became fast friends. Soon Fiona got involved in the ABMB and one thing led to another... and we met."

Harry looked shocked. "You didn't drop Hermione for Fiona, did you?"

"Heavens, no. I think that Hermione introduced us on purpose, knowing we would hit if off. She broke up with me not a week after."

"I got the impression from Hermione that you weren't that interested in her."

"Typical. Very self-deprecating, that one. I suppose she also said, 'we dated a few times...'"

Harry nodded taking a swig of his Butterbeer.

Seamus rolled his eyes. "We dated for almost a year. I was crazy about her, but I could tell that it wasn't mutual."

"Neville and Ginny reckon she is still not over Ron."

Seamus looked thoughtful for a moment. "I thought that might be it, too. She absolutely refused to talk about Ron, which was always a bit odd in my opinion. Fiona has tried to get her to talk about it also, but she won't even with her. Has she talked to you about him?"

"Not yet."

"Do you think she is still hung up on Ron?"

I hope not.

Instead, Harry shrugged and looked around the pub, searching for something to change the subject to. "Nice place. Hermione says it's very popular and that you are quite the businessman."

Seamus scoffed. "I have Hermione and Fiona to thank for that. Fiona basically runs the place; I'm just the jovial Irishman everyone wants to drink a firewhiskey with. Hermione was the one that helped me get it off the ground. What did you think of the sign?" Seamus asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Clever. It took me a minute to catch on. The word Irishman painted green - 'The Green Irishman.'"

"That was Hermione's idea. She said it would be a conversation piece. It usually stumps people at first but once they cotton on...I have to admit it was pretty clever."

"There is just one thing, Seamus. I don't think you have enough green in here, mate..."

Two hours later, Hermione and Fiona returned to a bustling pub packed to the gills with young witches and wizards. Fiona immediately removed her cloak and went behind the bar to help, tying on an apron as she went. Hermione began searching the crowd for Harry. There was a huge crowd in the corner cheering for a wizard that was playing the muggle game, darts. Seamus had insisted on putting a couple of dartboards up in honor of his muggle father who had won quite a few dart tournaments in Ireland. It quickly became the most popular game in the place and Seamus had started having tournaments of his own.

Still looking for Harry, Hermione wandered back to the dart game and was surprised to see that the wizard that was being cheered was Harry. Seamus, who looked as if he had had quite a few drinks, was taunting Harry as he readied his next throw. Harry cast a withering glance at Seamus and threw the dart, right into the wall above the board. The crowd erupted and Harry shrugged his shoulders and handed Seamus a galleon.

"Never, ever play darts with an Irish pub owner, Harry! I thought you were smarter than that," Seamus chided.

"SEAMUS!"

Hermione saw the color drain from Seamus' face. "Bloody hell, she's back," he said and he hurried off to answer his wife's call.

Hermione grinned as she watched Seamus scamper behind the bar getting an earful from Fiona along the way. She turned back to Harry. "Lost to Seamus at darts, did you?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders reaching for his ale. "I let him win. Wouldn't want the Irish pub owner to lose face in his own establishment."

"Uh-huh," Hermione said and raised her hand to Seamus to signal for a drink.

"What! You doubt me?" Harry teased, offering her his glass.

"You could say that," Hermione rejoined, taking a drink of Harry's ale.

"So, how about a game, Miss Granger. If I'm so bad then surely you could beat me."

"Oh, I'm sure I could never be as good as you," Hermione said sarcastically, taking an ale being delivered by a waitress. "You are a man after all, and men are better than girls at everything, aren't they?"

Harry leaned across the table and stopped inches from Hermione's face. "You are going down."

"I'm petrified."

Harry retreated to the board and removed the darts. "What game do you want to play?" he asked giving her the darts.

"You choose," she said, shrugging her shoulders and standing to remove her cloak.

"501." Harry took her cloak, folded it and laid it over his stool. "Would you like for me to explain the rules to you?"

"Only if you need a refresher course."

"Funny. Let's go."

So the game began. Harry won the first one handily and was feeling very confident. He also won the second game, although not by as much. That didn't stop him from playfully taunting Hermione though.

Seamus, who had stopped by to watch, said under his breath so only Harry could hear, "You might want to watch it, Harry." Harry, who was on his sixth ale by this time, said, "Don't you worry about a thing, Seamus. I've got her right where I want her."

Seamus shook his head and made his way through the crowd back to Fiona at the bar. "Is Hermione letting him win?"

"Not for long."

Hermione leaned lazily against the bar, watching Harry's last dart pierce its mark with near perfection. Its resounding thud against the dartboard was quickly drowned out by the whoops and hollers of patrons who'd obviously made wagers on the game. Harry turned to her, his arms raised in victory, as a young girl brought both Hermione and him their respective darts. She took them hesitatingly, never removing her eyes from the mischievous expression that had just washed across his features.

His eyes moved across the gaggle of wizards exchanging knuts and fell resolutely on her. The intensity of his gaze forced her eyes to the half-consumed glass of ale she clutched in her right hand.

"Hermione," he began confidently. She mustered her courage and leveled her gaze to his questioningly. "It would appear that the Green Irishman attracts quite a few spirited gamblers."

"It always has."

"I wonder," he sauntered closer to her as the patrons hushed in anticipation. "If a simple wager - between friends - wouldn't be appropriate?"

Hermione tried desperately to keep the twinkle in her eyes from betraying her secret. She looked away, feigning concern and biting her lower lip, while gathering her composure. She returned her eyes to his, breath nearly catching at his proximity, and replied. "Well, I reckon it would make things a bit more...interesting." The bar resounded with appreciative encouragement, clinks of glasses, and sporadic clapping.

Harry's eyes danced brightly as he took a step back and began addressing the good-natured assemblage of onlookers. "The good Professor has agreed to a wager!" Hermione's shoulders shook from the encouraging slaps she received while cheers erupted through the pub. "But what will it be?" The place erupted as patrons shouted suggestions of every nature his way. Harry, arms crossed and fingers gently pulling at his chin, pretended to consider them. It was quite clear to Hermione that his decision was made long before he'd ever made the proposition.

"Should I win," he took a few steps toward her and took a breath. "Professor Granger must kiss me," he paused dramatically, "on the lips."

Hermione felt reasonably sure that her eyes betrayed her composed demeanor. She quickly looked around the pub, seeing the joyous faces of several individuals, and noted Seamus' head shaking knowingly in his palm. Fiona was laughing at his side. With a sly grin she returned her attention to Harry.

"And what if I should win?"

"Lady's choice," Harry said with an expression that said clearly that he didn't intend to lose.

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment and replied loudly to the pub, "The Flaming Incantation." Harry's brow furrowed questioningly as the cheers from the surrounding wizards reached a deafening roar.

Harry, an uneasy concern flickering across his brow asked, "What is 'The Flaming Incantation?'"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Just a little drink that Seamus invented."

"Seamus invented?"

Hermione nodded in assent and sidled up to Harry. She stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. "Why do you look so nervous, Harry? Afraid you are going to lose to a girl?" She stood back a step, a smirk written on her face, catcalls from the crowd in the background.

Harry looked around the crowd, which was evenly divided in its allegiance between Hermione and him. He grinned broadly and said loudly, "Done!"

"Best three out of five?" Hermione asked, taking her place behind the line.

"Works for me," Harry replied.

Hermione almost felt sorry for him after the first few rounds of the ensuing game. His smile was quickly replaced by confusion then faded altogether with the realization that he had, both literally and figuratively, been beaten at his own game.

Hermione won the next game and the next, and the one after that by 200 points. By this time, Harry was staring at her in awe. After removing the darts from the board, she sauntered back and whispered in Harry's ear, more than a little drunk, "Did I neglect to mention that I dated an Irish pub owner for a year?" Giggling and grinning broadly, she waved at Seamus indicating that it was time for Harry to pay up on his bet.

Tray held high above his head, Seamus walked through the crowd with much fanfare, visibly enjoying the spotlight that his creation had stolen for him. He put four glasses on the table in front of Harry and Hermione. Two were tall, thin test tube like glasses containing a clear liquid, which were flanked by two standard tankards of ale.

Harry looked down at the two shot glasses and asked, "What is this?"

"Water," Seamus responded with a grin.

Harry looked at him skeptically, obviously not believing a word of what he said.

"It really is water, Harry," Hermione replied with a grin to match Seamus'.

"If you don't believe me, drink it, Harry. I'll get you another one."

Harry picked up the test tube cautiously and sniffed it, then took a sip, confirming that it was, indeed, water.

"See. I told you so," Seamus replied, as he waved his wand and water poured out of it into the empty glass.

Harry looked at Hermione and asked, "Have you ever done this before?"

"Never have."

"Then why did you choose this for the bet?"

"I've seen lots of people do it, and it looks like fun. Plus, I want to see if you will barf, like most do."

"Tossing your cookies is your idea of fun?"

"I don't intend to throw up."

"Are you two ready?" Seamus asked, excitement oozing from every pore of his body.

"Do your thing," Hermione said.

Seamus raised his hands high in the air, signaling the pub for quiet. Slowly the noise died down to a murmur, and Seamus cleared his throat dramatically.

With a theatrical flourish of his wand he roared, "DINOYSUS INFLAMARE!"

Orange flames shot out of his wand and into the two test tubes, igniting the water down to the bottom of the glass, seemingly turning the water into liquid flames. An orange glow emitted from the two shots, bathing Harry and Hermione's faces in a soft light as the crowd roared its approval. Hermione, who had seen the production before, looked at Harry who was staring at their drinks with a wide-eyed expression.

Seamus leaned into the two of them and said, "Drink the water first. Then drink the ale."

"Drink the ale right after, like a chaser?" Harry asked.

"Well, not immediately, but soon after." He slapped Harry on the back. "You'll know when to drink the ale, trust me. "

Harry looked at Hermione with a skeptical look. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather kiss me?"

She laughed at his nervousness, hoping to disguise her own. "What a brave Gryffindor you are. Come on, let's do it."

She and Harry picked up their shots, took deep breaths, toasted each other and slammed the flaming water down.

Hermione wasn't quite sure what she had expected, but what happened was a sensation that was truly unforgettable. The water was warm sliding down her throat, as if warm molasses was coating her throat as it made its way down into her stomach. Once there, tingling warmth began to spread throughout her body; Hermione could feel the liquid coursing through each blood vessel until reaching the tiniest capillaries at the tips of her toes and fingers. Once she was infused with this warmth, the tingling sensation, which had been secondary, began to overtake the warmth until energy was humming through every nerve ending in her body. She locked onto Harry's eyes at this point, and felt the pull she had felt in the Leaky Cauldron earlier. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright with excitement, an expression Hermione was sure was reflected in her face. If the after-effects of the drink hadn't kicked in, Hermione was sure that she would have wrapped her arms around him and snogged him senseless right then and there.

As soon as the idea to kiss Harry entered her mind, an unpleasant burning sensation which originated at the tips of her fingers and toes began to work its way up her arms and legs. She saw Harry's eyes grow wide and he grabbed for the ale at the same moment she did. She felt the cool liquid spill out the sides of her mouth and down the front her throat as she drank more rapidly than she believed herself capable. Immediately, the burning sensation was eased and replaced by a cool, pleasant feeling. She slammed the mug down on the table, gasping for breath, holding her stomach, attempting to stem the tide of food that was begging to be released from her throat. She swallowed with great effort and took three or four deep breaths, continuing to swallow down the nausea that had overtaken her. She chanced a glance at Harry and saw him doubling over, attempting to regain his composure.

Still bent over, Harry looked up at her and grinned. "How can something be so wonderful and so horrible at the same time?"

"I have no idea," Hermione replied, shakily. "I think I need to sit down."

She felt gentle hands guide her to a barstool and turned to see Seamus' concerned face. "Are you okay, Hermione?"

"I'll be fine," she said, putting her head in her hand.

"Here," Seamus said, placing a glass of clear liquid in front of both Hermione and Harry, who sat down across from her. "Drink this."

"What is that?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Water. Drink up. It will help."

"What in Merlin's name was in that thing?" Harry asked accusingly.

"Trade secret," Seamus replied jauntily, walking back to take his place behind the bar.

The crowd around the two of them began to disperse, leaving Harry and Hermione to recover in peace. Hermione took a long drink of the water Seamus had provided and was rewarded with her nausea abating little by little. Her head, however, was beginning to spin slightly. She put her glass down to see Harry watching her with a smirk on his face. "Wha's 'o funny?" she slurred.

Harry pointed at her robes and she looked down to discover two wet streaks running down the front of her robes to her navel, the result of her hastily drunk ale. "Oops," she said goofily and pulled out her wand to perform a drying charm.

Harry reached his hand across the table to stop her. "I think I'd leave it if I were you. No telling what spell you might perform on yourself the state you are in."

Hermione looked down at Harry's hand covering hers and felt the humming sensation from The Flaming Incantation return. Her eyes returned to Harry's and she quickly removed her hand from his and pocketed her wand.

"Up for another game? I'll give you the chance to regain some of your 'manly pride,'" she said jauntily, waving to Seamus for another round of ales.

"You're on."

With a new resolve, Harry won the next game tying them with three apiece. It wasn't a very satisfying win for him owing to the fact that the ale and the shot were having their effect on Hermione and her darts were hitting everything but the board.

"Maybe we should go, Hermione. It's getting late and we have had quite a bit to drink..." Harry started.

"Nonsense. We have to play one more game to determine the winner," she slurred, swaying slightly.

"You won. That was our last game and you beat me soundly," Harry lied.

"Really?" Hermione asked, her brows furrowing in concentration.

"Really. You are the champion," Harry said.

Trying to do a victory jig, Hermione tripped and fell into Harry's arms. "Oops," she said giggling. Harry put his arm around her waist to hold her up as he grabbed their cloaks.

"I beat Harry Potter in darts!" Hermione leaned over to a table of young wizards and whispered loudly. "Shhh!" she said, putting her finger against her lips. "Don't tell anyone he lost to a girl! It will ruin his reputation as the Voldie Vanquisher!" She winked conspiratorially at the men as Harry steered her away and towards the bar.

"So, who won the last game?" Fiona asked filling a tankard with ale.

"I did!" Hermione slurred with enthusiasm.

Fiona raised one eyebrow at Harry who shrugged his shoulders. "You two heading back tonight?" she asked staring at Hermione with concern.

"I thought we might stop at the Leaky Cauldron and see if they have a couple of rooms. I don't know how far Hermione can go."

"Don't be silly. We have a spare bedroom in our flat upstairs. You can stay there. There is only one bed, but I think Hermione's honour is safe tonight," Fiona said as she watched Hermione's head drop onto Harry's shoulder and her eyes close.

"Done," Harry said, struggling to keep Hermione standing upright. Half carrying Hermione, he followed Fiona to the back of the pub and up a flight of narrow stairs. She opened the door for them and let them pass into their flat.

"It is the last door on the right. The loo is across the hall. Make yourselves at home." With that, she closed the door and returned to the busy pub.

Harry gave up trying to help Hermione walk; he picked her up and carried her down the hall. She nuzzled her head on his shoulder and put her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his hair on the back of his head as she did.

"Your hair is so soft," she murmured, her warm breath tickling his neck.

"Thanks," Harry said, trying to focus on something besides her hand playing with his hair and the resulting shiver running up his spine. He kicked open the door to the room which was bathed in moonlight coming through the window opposite the door. He laid Hermione gently on the bed and stood up, moving to close the curtains over the window.

"So, where did your glasses go, Harry?" Hermione asked with her eyes closed.

Amazed that she could put a coherent sentence together, but knowing she wouldn't remember anything at all in the morning, he replied as he was pulling her shoes off. "A muggle doctor performed laser surgery on my eyes."

Hermione's eyes flew open. She sat up and grabbed his head with her hands, using her thumbs to pull down his lower eyelids. "A muggle shot phasers in your eyes? Are you okay? Did it hurt?"

Harry chuckled knowing it was useless to correct her. "No it didn't hurt at all. Only took about 10 minutes."

A relieved look washed over her face, but she continued to hold Harry's face only inches from hers. Her eyes roamed over his features, settling on his eyes. With a very serious look on her face she said, "You know, those fan club girls are right. You are a hottie." And she threw herself back on the bed bursting into a fit of giggles.

"Thanks, I think," Harry said uncertainly, pulling the blankets back for her to crawl under. Harry tucked the blankets around her as she turned over on her side to face the window and immediately fell asleep.

Harry sat down beside her, propping his back up against the headboard, and watched her sleep. Her hair had fallen over her face, and for the second time that day he pushed it back behind her ear. "Your hair's soft, too," he whispered and continued to run his fingers through her hair. He kicked off his shoes and lay down beside her on top of the blankets. "This isn't exactly how I imagined sharing a bed with you, Hermione," he whispered softly to the ceiling.

But I guess it will have to do.

He turned over on his side, wrapped his right arm around Hermione's waist, pulled her closer to him and snuggled in to sleep.

---

Hermione reluctantly succumbed to wakefulness. Although her mind was awake, her body was having a difficult time responding in kind. Her limbs felt like they weighed 100 kilos each, and she had a peculiar stiffness in her right shoulder. Her eyes and mouth were waging a battle to determine which could be drier. Her mouth was winning, she decided, rubbing the dryness and sleep out of her eyes. But by far the champion of discomfort had to be her head -- her throbbing, aching head.

Please don't let it be bright in the room. Please don't let it be bright in the room.

With great effort, she reluctantly opened her eyes. Thankfully, the curtains over the window blocked the sunlight. It was obvious from the light peeking through the edges that it was well into the morning.

Wait a minute. I know those curtains. I helped Fiona pick them out. How did I end up in their guest room?

She rolled onto her back to see Harry lying on his side facing her, sleeping peacefully.

With a groan, Hermione threw her right arm over her eyes as the events of the previous night came flooding back to her.

How much ale did I drink? Why did I drink so much ale? I don't think I did anything too embarrassing. Who did I see and what did I say to them? Fred stopped by. Or was it George? I hope Molly doesn't find out I was drunk playing darts at the Green Irishman. She will be appalled. Ginny will probably say 'it's about time' when Fred and George tell her.

Hermione took her arm from her eyes and turned to look at Harry. His deep and even breathing told her that he was still asleep. He was lying on his side, his legs drawn up and his arms crossed across his chest as if trying to stay warm. Hermione realized that he was on top of the blankets and hoped that he hadn't been freezing all night. Making sure not to wake him, she gently touched his nose, checking for warmth. Finding it warm, she ran her finger lightly down his jaw line to his chin for no reason at all, other than her own desire. She had wanted to do it since the day they shared by the lake at Hogwarts. She put her hands together under her cheek and turned on her side to continue watching him sleep.

She couldn't help thinking about their lunch the previous day at the Leaky Cauldron. The depth of feeling that stirred in her when he looked in her eyes had jolted her. Ever since that moment, she had been both elated...and petrified. It had taken her all week, a week of avoiding Harry, to get her mind around the realisation that she had complex feelings for him -- feelings she couldn't possibly describe as merely friendly. And then, after less than an hour of being in his presence, she felt an undeniable sexual attraction, a pull that she couldn't remember ever feeling before.

It was a great feeling. One she wasn't entirely sure she was ready for. But her reticence had not made the feeling go away.

Never could she remember a board meeting that had been so boring or so interminably long as the one that had kept her away from Harry. She couldn't recall one item that had been discussed or one comment that she had made. She was completely distracted thinking about Harry and wanting to get back to the Green Irishman to spend time with him. Fiona had noticed Hermione's distraction and had nudged her several times when Hermione was being asked a question or to comment. She had brought it up on the walk back to the pub.

"Hermione, what's going on? I've never seen you be so inattentive at a meeting before."

"Nothing's going on. I just have a lot on my mind," she said with a wave of her hand.

"Obviously it isn't the ABMB. Is it work?"

"No. I could teach transfiguration in my sleep." She continued walking a few steps in silence. "There is more to life than work or causes."

Fiona stopped in her tracks and said, astounded, "Since when for you?"

Hermione had given her friend a grin and opened the door to the Green Irishman.

Now, here she was lying in the same bed with Harry.

Albeit fully clothed.

She chuckled to herself.

But I have to start somewhere.

She took her left hand from under her cheek and ran her hand through his hair.

I could do this all day.

A few minutes later, when she put her hand back under her cheek, Harry said sleepily, "You don't have to stop, you know."

Hermione's breath caught and her eyes grew wide as Harry opened his.

"Good morning," Harry said.

"Hello."

"Sleep well?"

"Who remembers?"

"How do you feel?"

"Getting better."

"Why did you stop?"

"I didn't want to wake you. Sorry."

"For stopping or for waking me?"

"Both, I guess."

They stared at each other and Hermione felt the same indescribable pull she had felt the day before.

"I must look a fright," Hermione said, suddenly embarrassed, while running her hand through her hair.

Harry took her hand from her hair pulling it down to hold it between them. "You look beautiful," he said quietly. "Hermione..."

"Harry, wait," Hermione said, taking her hand from his and gently putting her fingers on his lips. Once she felt how soft they were, she realised what a mistake she made. She took her hand away from his lips slowly and held his hand again.

"I'm petrified."

"Of what?"

"Of this. Of how I feel about you. Of how I think you feel about me."

Surprise registered on his face and he began excitedly, "I want to tell you how I feel..."

"No!" Hermione said quickly. At the confused look on Harry's face, she explained, "I don't want to rush into anything just because I'm attracted to you."

Harry smiled and propped his head in his hand. "Rush into anything? Hermione, what are you on about? We have known each other for years."

"Which is another reason I don't want to rush it. Harry, I'm barely used to the idea that you're back in my life, let alone that we could become more than just friends."

Harry looked down at their hands and said, "So, you've never thought of me other than as a friend, have you?"

"No. Not until recently," she replied. "You haven't either, have you?"

He looked up at her sheepishly. "I thought of you a lot in America, and not just as my best friend. I was telling the truth when I said I came back because of you."

Hermione realized that she was holding her breath, shocked from this revelation. She released the breath she was holding, with new resolve to take the progression of their relationship slowly.

Apparently misinterpreting her silence, Harry leaned forward to kiss Hermione.

"No," she said, again placing her fingers to his lips. Confusion etched on his face, Hermione explained, "Harry, I'm not ready to jeopardize our newly repaired friendship for the mere possibility of a romantic relationship. I already lost one best friend that way. I don't want to lose you, too."

Understanding that she was talking about Ron, he said, "Hermione, I'm not going to die. That isn't on my list of things to do until I'm at least 150 years old," he ended playfully. The smile slid from his face when he saw the look on hers. "I'm sorry. That was tactless."

He brushed her hair out of her face with his hand and stroked her cheek. Hermione was looking down, fighting back the tears that were brimming in her eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he whispered.

She shook her head vigorously, keeping her eyes averted from Harry. She was lying to him -- because she did want to talk to him about it, desperately. Her deceit was a wall between them that they both felt, but a wall that only Hermione could raze. Unfortunately, she had spent five years building the wall and was not ready at the moment to tear it down.

"Hey," Harry said softly, lifting her chin with his finger. "I'm not going anywhere. We can take as much time as you need." He lifted his head and softly kissed her forehead. "No pressure, okay? It is enough for me to know that you have feelings for me. I was beginning to wonder if Voldemort had taken away my boyish charm along with my scar," he ended with a grin.

She smiled and said, "No, your boyish charm is intact."

"Whew, that's a relief."

Hermione looked at Harry's handsome face and felt a bit of her self-imposed barricade begin to crumble. Her heart lightened with the realisation that Harry, her best friend, was the only person that could help her find the happiness that she had been searching for since Ron's death. Furthermore, she recognized that despite the serious tone of their conversation, her happiness, her elation at being here with Harry, had been there the whole time. And her heart was buoyed even more.

"So, what about Professor Sprout?" Hermione said playfully.

Harry sighed. "I'll just have to let her down easily. Poor old girl."

Hermione took the pillow from behind her head and hit Harry with it.

"Ow. That's going to leave a mark."

"Toughen up."

Hermione replaced the pillow under her head as Harry said, "I think I'm pretty tough. I didn't lose my lunch last night, did I?"

"Lose your lunch?" Hermione asked, confused. Her eyes widened as she remembered The Flaming Incantation -- barely remembered it, and not much else.

"I can't believe you made me drink that," Harry said. "All I wanted was a kiss, and you wanted to see me throw up." He looked up at the ceiling as if pondering his next question. "I wonder what that means?"

"Yeah, well, nothing changes the fact that you lost to a girl. The Boy-Who-Lived, the vanquisher of Voldemort, the Great American Golf Caddy, lost at darts to a bookworm. Your reputation is irreparably shattered."

"Thank God. Now maybe people will stop sending me all those owls!"

"What? Too many marriage proposals to choose from?"

"Something like that," he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Hermione, there's something I've always wanted to know."

Warily she asked, "What?"

"Are you ticklish?" and he immediately started tickling her sides. Hermione squealed and started laughing and flailing around, getting tangled in the blankets she was under. Sensing weakness, Harry sat up and straddled her legs to continue the tickle torture.

"Are you ticklish here?" and he tickled under her arms...

"What about here?" and he half turned and tickled her knees...

"And here?" and he tickled her neck...laughing the entire time.

"No! Stop! Please!" she said laughing, tears streaming out of her eyes. "Mercy! Mercy!"

Harry stopped tickling her neck and grinned down at her. "I'd say that is a resounding 'yes'! You are ticklish."

"Brilliant deduction, Potter." She saw the mischievous grin on Harry's face begin to fade, replaced with an intense gaze as he ran his eyes over her face, settling on her lips. The smile slid slowly from her face and she said quietly, "Harry..."

Just as he was leaning down to kiss her, she grabbed his sides, flipped him off of her to where she was straddling him and started tickling him mercilessly. When he could finally get the words out between his laughter and catching his breath, he yelled, "Mercy! Mercy! You win!"

"Aha. That's what I thought! Beaten by a girl again!" she said triumphantly. She rose from the bed and walked to look in the mirror hanging on the wall over the dresser.

Harry glared at her with mock severity and said, "You are cruel. And you are going to pay."

"Right. Whatever you say. The only thing that scares me right now is the way I look," she said scowling as she opened the door to go to the loo.

A second later, she poked her head back in the door and said, "Harry, why did you sleep on top of the blankets?"

Harry gave her a leering look and said, "I may be patient, Hermione, but I know my limitations."

---