Three Seasons to Closure

Chapter 3. New Friends, New Butterbeer

Harry Apparated into his living room and made a beeline for the kitchen. Grabbing a Butterbeer Extra from the refrigerator, he willed himself to relax a bit. It was Friday evening and Harry was at once tense from a long and stressful week at work and excited by the prospect of a couple of days off. He was always in a mood to celebrate on a Friday night, eager to forget about his case if even just for a short time, and keen to begin the process of unwinding.

It had been months now, however, since Harry had anyone who he particularly wanted to go out with on a Friday night. His last relationship had ended shortly after Easter, and Harry had then realized that he didn't really have any close guy friends anymore. As he popped open a bottle of Extra, it dawned on Harry just how much he missed Ron, who could always have been counted on for a fun night out. Ron, of course, had obligations to his family these days and Harry had never really found a good male substitute for his oldest mate.

Despite the fact that he was relatively happy most of the time, Fridays tended to make Harry feel a bit out of place. The wizards in Harry's Auror unit got together once or twice a month, but they were all older than Harry, and had wives or girlfriends of their own to spend time with on cherished weekend nights. Watching bubbles rise to the surface of his Butterbeer bottle, and listening to the muted popping noise they made once they broke the surface, Harry thought idly about how out of practice he'd become with this whole living alone thing and wondered briefly about how Hermione handled it so well. He shrugged and took a gulp of Butterbeer, sitting down at his dark oak kitchen table.

Harry considered going to the Muggle bar again and shooting a bit of billiards, but discarded the idea almost immediately. It had been an abnormally stressful week at the Auror Department, and he didn't quite feel up to sharing superficial conversations with the blokes there and pretending not to be a wizard.

"Right," he said aloud, "I wonder if Hermione would be up for a bit of an evening out." Harry picked up his bottle and took a few more sips, mulling over the idea of asking his friend to join him for an unprecedented Friday outing. Would she feel harassed if he wanted her to spend not only Saturday together with him, but Friday night as well? "Toss it," he said, taking another swig. "If she doesn't want to give up another night, she'll just say so, won't she?" He hastily stepped over to the fireplace, grabbed a fistful of Floo powder and tossed it in the fire.

"Hermione, are you home?"

Hermione's heart jumped and she nearly fell off of the hard-backed chair that she'd been perched on while reading at the kitchen table. "Just a second," she yelled, shaking her head to steady her nerves. "Harry! It's Friday, I wasn't expecting to hear from you!" Hermione beamed at the fireplace, happy for the pleasant distraction from her revising.

"Well...I wanted to see if you were up to going out for a bit," Harry said. His fire image stared awkwardly at Hermione's sofa, waiting for her to come into view.

Shutting the book she'd been buried in moments ago, Hermione walked over to the fireplace opening and squatted in front of Harry's wobbly orange face. "That sounds positively...exciting," Hermione said, smiling at her friend. "Imagine me, going out on a Friday evening." She glanced quickly at the pile of schoolbooks on her kitchen table and shook her head. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I hadn't gotten that far..." Harry began, but was interrupted by Hermione.

"I had fun at the Leaky last time we went," she interjected excitedly. "Want to find out what it's like on a Friday night?"

"Sounds fun, just like old times," Harry replied, grinning.

"Yeah," Hermione replied. "I only wish..." she said, stopping herself.

"...Ron could come along," Harry finished for her, remembering too when the three friends used to knock down pitchers of Butterbeer and ale just after the war had ended. "Yeah, I've been missing the dolt too. It'd be much nicer for me if he hadn't gone and gotten himself a life." Harry smiled, adding, "But, I suspect it's up to us to carry on without, right?"

"Right," Hermione returned, smiling back.

"See you in ten?" Harry asked.

Hermione looked down at her attire - A dingy t-shirt and jean shorts. She couldn't remember whether she had even bothered to comb her hair all day. "Not on your life!" she said. "I'm not going out on a Friday night looking like a hag! I'll need the works tonight. Give me an hour, okay?"

Laughing lightly, Hermione smiled at the impatient look Harry involuntarily gave just before he nodded and extinguished the Floo connection. She felt bad making Harry wait when he was so clearly in a mood to get out of his flat, but Hermione knew full well that any other witches they would come across this evening would be dressed to the nines and eying each other in judgmental fashion. "Witches," Hermione groaned to herself, "are our own worst critics."

After making herself presentable, Hermione Apparated to Harry's flat, where she found him sitting on the sofa and staring at the fireplace.

"One hour flat," he said, laughing at Hermione's presumptiveness at Apparating without Flooing first. "Lucky I wasn't standing on that very spot, aren't you?" he chided, "We could have been Splinched into one very strange-looking, four-legged creature!"

Hermione flinched, embarrassed. "Oh, sorry Harry!" she said. "I guess I'm getting too comfortable since we've been spending so much time together and all."

"Not at all," Harry said, standing up and offering Hermione his hand. "I was just teasing. And I like that you're less formal with me now." Drawing his wand from his back pocket and hooking his arm in Hermione's elbow, Harry Apparated them both to an alley just outside of the Leaky Cauldron.

The bar exhibited a very different atmosphere on this night than it had on their Saturday afternoon lunchtime visit. Harry noticed that there was now a patio area opened up, which gave him a rush of excitement that they might be able to sit outside. It was a clear, breezy evening and the black pavement glittered prettily under the bright moonlight and roaring torches, still wet from an afternoon shower.

"Oh, this is a lovely spot!" Hermione gushed as she spotted a table on the patio that had just been cleared. She and Harry took seats at opposite sides of the table and began to look at their menus.

"Hey, it's Hippy Hermione!" a loud male voice shouted from the table next to Harry's and Hermione's.

"And her Fetching Friend!" added an even louder female voice.

Harry and Hermione twisted their heads to spy a table full of young people, making a great deal of noise and raising their mugs in a toast. Everyone at the table was smiling, and staring directly at the pair of newcomers.

"Oh, it's you guys!" Hermione shot out.

Harry leaned across the table and spoke directly into Hermione's ear. "I'd defend your honor, but seeing as how it was actually you who christened yourself 'Hippy'..."

"Awww," a petite witch from the group sang out, pointing at Harry, "Fetching Friend is trying to get a little action!"

"Hippy action!" one of the young wizards yelled, jumping up and pumping his hips in a semi-vulgar display. He stumbled a bit as he sat back down and raised his glass, preparing for another toast.

"To Fetching --"

"Stop!" Harry yelled, holding up his hand and laughing at the little dance he'd just been witness to. "Please stop calling me that. My name is Harry, and this is ..."

"Hunky Harry!" another girl called and the table broke out in laughter again, clinking their mugs haphazardly. Embarrassing Harry and Hermione seemed to be quite good entertainment for the spirited group. They had clearly been at the tavern for a good long while already.

"I give up," Harry laughed. "I do hope I can trust you to keep an eye on old Hippy here while I fetch us some drinks?"

"Hell yeah!" yelled one of the wizards. He gave Hermione an approving look, winking as he did so.

"Umm...Harry?" Hermione said, fiddling with the hem of her blouse. "Hurry, okay?" She smiled uneasily, but relaxed as she studied the group more closely. They reminded her at once of what she, Harry and Ron might have been like years ago if it weren't for the war - full of mirth and nonsense. She began inquiring as to where each of the group was from. After a few minutes, Harry returned from the bar with his wand held up over his head, expertly floating an entire pitcher of Butterbeer Extra and two mugs, which were clinking loudly against each other. He wove his way through the packed bar toward their table, only to find it empty.

"Harry, join us!"

Harry spun around and saw that Hermione was now crammed into the young party's seating arrangement, and patting a chair which had been stuffed in the small space next to her at the end of the table.

"This is Alice," Hermione said, pointing to the petite blond witch on her left, "Meg," Hermione indicated a pretty and slightly plump girl next to Alice, "Brian," she waved at the wizard who had been flirting with her earlier, "Bob and Francis!" she finished, holding both hands out and smiling at a tall, dark-haired wizard and the pretty brunette who was presently sitting on his lap. "They're a couple," Hermione added, needlessly. Bob gave his girlfriend a squeeze and Francis beamed up at him. "They all went to Hogwarts as well," Hermione continued, "but they were about five years behind us and none in Gryffindor."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said. "I guess you already think you know our names." Harry laughed and swished his wand, setting the mugs down and motioning the pitcher to begin filling all of the empty mugs on the table. The young crowd seemed quite impressed with Harry's ability to control his Levitation charms, and equally pleased with the offer of more drink.

"To new friends!" Meg shouted, raising her newly filled mug.

"New friends and new pitchers of Butterbeer!" Brian corrected.

"New friends, new butterbeer!" the five young partiers said in unison, clinking sloppily.

Harry and Hermione joined in the toast, catching each other's eye as they shared a smile.

"New friends, new Butterbeer!"

As the group settled in to inquire more about Harry and Hermione, Alice was becoming noticeably amused at Harry's extreme reluctance to give out any details about his job. Although none of the young people made mention of it, they had clearly recognized Harry as "The Harry Potter." Harry was known to the wizarding community in a kind of third-party way. Everyone knew what he'd done, where he'd come from and what he looked like. But the more personal aspects of his life - where he lived and what he did with himself - were always a mystery since he'd never once given an interview or shown up at a public event.

"So, you aren't with the ministry, but you kind of find dark wizards..." Alice said, smiling slyly. "Are you an Auror then?"

Harry took a drink and attempted to change the subject. "The bartender said there's a pretty decent band tonight --"

"You are!" Alice cut in, screeching excitedly. "Hunky's an Auror! I just know it!" She clapped her hands together and beamed at Harry. "Ooh, it's so....Double-O-Seven!"

"Oh!" said Hermione. "You must be Muggle-born then?"

"Yes," replied Alice. "I came to Hogwarts as a complete novice, just like our handsome friend over there." She gave Harry a quick wink. "And you'll never guess who the first famous wizard I learned about was."

Hermione leaned in toward Harry and gave his arm a pinch. "I am SO going to enjoy myself tonight," Hermione said, speaking in Harry's ear. Watching Harry being goaded about his appearance all evening gave Hermione an immense amount of pleasure. Having been around him since they were school children, Hermione knew full well that her Harry absolutely hated being complimented on anything other than his Quidditch skills. She smiled broadly as she looked over at her friend, who was trying to feign interest in his mug of Butterbeer while his face was flushing furiously. Being called "Hippy" was a small price to pay indeed for being able to revel in Harry's adorable embarrassment.

"Having fun, Miss?" Harry shot at her, trying to engage Hermione with a devilish glare.

"Oh, I just know you too well, that's all," Hermione retorted. Taking a large gulp of her Butterbeer and slapping the mug roughly back down on the table, Hermione gave Harry one more knowing smile before returning to her previous conversation with Alice and Meg.

As the evening wore on, Harry found that he had been laughing so hard, and for so long with this lively group, that his cheeks were sore and his throat was beginning to become hoarse. The central tables in the main tavern were pushed to the side at ten o'clock and a small dance floor was quickly formed - complete with Fairy lights and soft puffs of many-colored smoke hovering along just above the floor. Not long after the tables had been cleared, a three-piece rock band sauntered up to a small stage set at the back of the floor. The players deftly tuned their instruments, and then started right in with a fast-paced tune.

Bob and Francis were the first Leaky patrons to take up the dance floor. They gave the impression that they would clearly spend the remainder of the night there as they moved slowly, wrapped around each other and sneaking occasional kisses, oblivious to the surrounding crowds. Harry watched the couple for a while and then turned to make a remark to Hermione. He laughed when he saw her lounging back in her pub chair with her head tipped to the side. She was swaying slightly to the band's tune, a small smile playing on her lips. She seemed to be feeling her Butterbeer.

"You like this song, do you?" Harry asked. "Care to dance then?"

Hermione slowly turned her head to face Harry, looking up at him and blinking, but not answering. It seemed to Harry as if Hermione's brain was still trying to process what he had said. "Come on then," Harry said, making the decision for Hermione. He pulled her out of her chair and steered her over to the dance floor, making a mental note to himself not to allow his friend to accept anything else alcoholic to drink. They danced for a few songs, facing each other and holding hands as they had years ago when they were new Hogwarts graduates. After a bit, Hermione leaned in toward Harry and stretched her neck upward in order to make her voice heard over the loud music.

"I'm having fun on a Friday night!" she said, smiling sloppily.

"What, I can't hear you?" Harry said, bending low and putting his ear directly in front of Hermione's face.

"I said," she yelled, "I'm having fun on a Friday night!"

Harry shook his head and looked down at his tipsy friend, smiling.

"Can't hear you! Listen, if you're going to want to talk, we should go to the back of the tavern or something. Feeling chatty, are we?" he asked.

Hermione smiled up at Harry and continued to sway to the music, apparently not having heard a word he had just said. "Yep, I don't need Benjamin. You know, I haven't shed one tear over mine and Benjamin's breakup. Not one. Did you know that? I have more fun with my Harry Friend, anyway. Fun on a Friday night," she said, dreamily.

"Um...don't say 'Harry friend'," Harry laughed. "It makes me sound like Hagrid or something."

"Awe, Hagrid!" Hermione sighed. "I miss that big lump." Hermione stopped dancing as she said this and just stood in place, swinging Harry's hands back and forth to the music.

"Okay, we've got to get you sober," Harry said, all of a sudden worried. He made a move to escort Hermione off the dance floor but she held her ground firmly, refusing to budge and smiling sweetly at him. "Okay, we'll stay," he said, laughing again. "Just don't call me your 'Harry friend' again."

"Okay, Hunky," Hermione said coyly, cocking her head to the side.

"That did it!" Harry shouted as he made a severe face and gave Hermione a twirl, ending in an exaggerated dip. The dip earned them several hoots and claps from two of the dancing couples surrounding them. "I'll show you fun on a Friday night," he quipped. Harry laughed again as he and Hermione lumbered through their dance, feeling that soreness return to his cheeks. As the band changed songs and began a slow waltz-y ballad which was sung by the raspy lead singer, Harry looked down at Hermione, bending low again, to suggest that they leave. He was thinking that slow songs between friends were never a good idea. Hermione, however, lunged forward and planted herself clumsily in Harry's arms. She enfolded him in a tight squeeze and buried her face in his chest.

"Okay, slow dancing with a friend, it is. This won't feel awkward at all in the morning," Harry thought with a heavy note of sarcasm. He gently pried Hermione's arms from around his waist and placed her hands on his shoulders, turning her in a small circle as they swayed lightly.

"Coffee for you," Harry said, speaking into her ear once again.

"'kay," Hermione answered, lazily.

They danced through the slow ballad and the one that followed. Hermione had stopped trying to talk, instead laying her head on Harry's shoulder, making little sighing sounds every once in a while. The new song was about a young wizard who had fallen off his broom, and Harry found himself lost in thought as he listened to it. He was thinking that the wizard falling off his broom was probably a metaphor for losing one's way in life, more or less. If Hermione were sober, he would have asked her opinion on the matter.

It occurred to Harry, as he enjoyed the feeling of his friend's gentle weight laying limply on his shoulder, that ever since the very moment he pierced a sword into the body of his mortal enemy, he seemed to have been caught slightly off the beaten path and unable to figure out his way back. His life, Harry thought, had held such singular purpose early on. Early childhood left him with a sense of nothing to live for, and adolescence had taught him that not only could he die at any second, but that he would be fully capable of killing as well. But through it all, whether it was surviving to live another day at the Dursley's or at the hands of Lord Voldemort, Harry had never lacked direction until he watched the last wisps of Voldemort's soul whirl into the air and out of site.

Dancing with his closest friend, Harry wondered whether Hermione would think that his being lost was the reason he couldn't seem to hold onto a girlfriend for longer than seven or eight months. He knew that he should cling onto one of the witches he dated, get married and start the family that he desperately yearned for. But inevitably, his girlfriend would start wanting more than he seemed capable of giving and the relationship would quickly begin to topple.

"Do you see us growing old together?" they would ask.

"Why don't you open up?" was a familiar theme.

"You don't ever say, 'I love you,'" his last girlfriend had said.

Even though Harry knew full well that he had indeed said it - several times, in fact - it somehow hadn't come off as genuine. Perhaps it was a question of timing, or intensity. Perhaps she was just being particular.

"Why can't you tell me about your past?"

This was the one that usually spelled the end for any of Harry's romantic relationships.

"Why?" he thought to himself, sarcastically. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because my childhood is like a Dickens novel and horror film all rolled up into one." Harry looked down at his groggy friend and gave her a squeeze. "Hermione understands. There are some things that just shouldn't have to be said."

"I'll take that coffee now," Hermione said, breaking Harry out of his reverie. The band had changed songs again and the two were now dancing slowly, still locked in a tight embrace even though the song was very upbeat.

"Coffee it is," Harry said, letting Hermione go except to grab her hand to lead her toward the bar to order a sobering drink. They stayed for another hour at the Leaky Cauldron and Hermione's alcohol-induced fog lifted. She yawned as sleepiness began to creep in its place. Right on cue, Harry noticed his friend's tired state and suggested that they bid their party friends goodbye and Apparate back to his flat.

Following their custom for Saturday outings, the two watched television and chatted. Hermione talked a bit more about the trouble she'd been having with using newts as test subjects for an experimental method she was developing - one that could be used for tracing spells based on personal magic signatures.

"It'd be great if it works," Harry said, conversationally. "We could use a way to prove that someone has cast a spell other than by examining the wand... too many ways around that one. Not to mention that we have to find the wand... So many of the Death Eaters burned theirs up."

Hermione lit up at the suggestion that the Aurors would actually be able to use her method, if it were ever proven to work. She had come up with the idea in order to discriminate between maladies that were caused by the victim's own use of magic and those that were caused by spells cast by others in order to help the healer diagnose more quickly. It hadn't occurred to her that the method might have implications in the world of crime and punishment as well.

Harry listened patiently as Hermione rattled on about the difficulties of using newts and Ministry laws preventing the employment of more useful subjects. Half-watching the television, half-listening to his brilliant friend, Harry fought to keep his eyelids open as they threatened to fall closed on him.

"I almost forgot to mention," Harry said, sitting up and turning toward Hermione, "I have to go to this thing...this Muggle Law Enforcement Convention." He scratched the back of his neck and winced apologetically. "I'll be leaving on Thursday and won't be back until the following Wednesday, so we won't be able to spend Saturday together."

"Oh," Hermione said quietly. "Yeah, we have had a bit a standing engagement on Saturdays, haven't we?"

"I didn't want you to wait around, wondering whether I'd be Flooing," Harry said, smiling, "when you could be off doing something exciting." He gave a huge yawn and leaned in against the arm of his sofa. "It's kind of like we're dating, you know?"

"What?" Hermione asked. Her eyebrows narrowed and she looked suddenly perplexed.

"Well, we eat, see movies...dance. It's kind of like dating," Harry answered her simply.

Hermione stared at her friend. "We also spend evenings watching television together. And we don't fuss about what to wear or --"

"I never do that anyway," Harry interrupted.

"And we don't have to think about impressing each other," Hermione added, drawing her legs up to lie down on the sofa.

"More like being married, then," Harry said.

"Married!" Hermione sat up and looked at Harry as if he was a bizarre museum exhibit. "Are you feeing quite well?" she asked, concerned.

"The television thing," Harry said in the same calm voice. "Plus not trying to impress and all that. Doing things together as the normal state of things...not having to make plans. It's like being married."

"Married, honestly!" Hermione exclaimed, laying back down again and laughing.

"Except without the adult-rated bits," Harry added.

Hermione laughed again. "Yes. We're just like an old married couple with a comfortable routine. I suppose that's the natural evolution for a long-standing friendship among opposing sexes," Hermione said, sounding rather clinical.

"Just without the adult-rated bits," Harry reminded her, yawning again.

Hermione was touched by Harry's comments. She hadn't realized until just that moment that she had spent every Saturday since last April with Harry. A tiny feeling of disappointment surfaced as she looked over at her dear friend, thinking that she wouldn't be seeing him for two weeks now. As she watched her friend, Hermione smiled. Harry had fallen asleep - his head was leaning on the sofa arm and his glasses were twisted against it. She drew out her wand and pointed it at Harry's bedroom.

"Accio blanket of some kind."

A brightly colored Chudley Cannons blanket flew toward her and Hermione caught it mid-air, spreading it over herself and Harry. She reached over, gently removed Harry's glasses and set them down on the side table, kissing his forehead. Feeling tired from a very long day, she directed her wand at the television to turn it off, snuggling down on her side of Harry's sofa and falling asleep.

The following day, Hermione dedicated herself to catch up on her studies. She had made a life-long habit of finding interesting courses to take up at the London University of Magic, and had recently signed up yet again. Sitting in her kitchen, Hermione had just opened up her new textbook for a course on Spell Transport Phenomena. She heard a series of taps on the window over her sink and looked up to see Hedwig peering in at her.

"Hi, girl!" Hermione said, opening the sash to let the owl in. "What have you got? Something for me?"

Hermione disengaged a scroll from Hedwig's claw and went to retrieve an owl treat from a blue ceramic vase that was kept on top of her refrigerator. "Here you go," she said, giving the biscuit to an appreciative Hedwig. Hermione sat back down at her table and read the note from Harry. As she read, a broad smile swept across her face.

"Hermione,

I forgot to mention this last night. The head of the Auror Department has a daughter who is getting married a week from next Saturday. It won't be fun, but I feel obliged to go. I don't feel quite up to getting a date, and was rather hoping that you would go with me. So, will you?

Love, Harry."

"Yes, Harry Friend. Of course I'll go with you," Hermione said aloud, writing a quick response on the back of the parchment and rolling it up. Hedwig snatched the scroll and gave a hoot before darting out the window and sailing into the sky. Hermione watched the owl. "It's a date," she muttered vacantly, and then shook her head and picked up her textbook to resume her reading.